


Empty Mirrors

by Mad_Dream



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Andy/Anders, Angst, Dark, Dark Elsa (Disney), Elsa/Elias, Fantasy, Frozen genderbend, Gen, Genderbending, Hans/Hanne, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Magic, Male Anna (Disney), Male Elsa (Disney), Minor Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Once Upon a Time (TV) References, Possessive Behavior, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 85,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Dream/pseuds/Mad_Dream
Summary: "You can't forget me Andy." He hissed, caressing the bruises littering the other's cheek. His cold lips ghosted over Andy's, breathing, "You can never forget your real brother."Andy (Anna) had long accepted his role as the spare heir. Nothing he did could compare to the decorated war hero that was his king and brother, Elias (Elsa). Despite the distance that wars and royal dignitaries have put between them, the two brothers continue to fumble their way to each other's sides. But when a deadly, ancient clan threatens the very balance of their kingdom, Andy seeks help from the unlikeliest of allies to help his brother save their kingdom. Even from a familiar face he long thought was buried.Genderbend Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Hans.I originally started this on Fanfiction.net and am carrying it over to this platform. If you do not enjoy reading about violence, non-consensual, sexual, or incestuous themes, please be mindful of your media consumption and your mental health.
Relationships: Andy/Elias, Anna/Elsa (Disney), Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 30





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to pick up and finish a fanfic that was near and dear to my heart. I started this story back in 2015 and after contemplating a synopsis ending reveal decided to finish the story. The chapters will be directly copied from my platform on Fanfiction.net. New chapters will start right after chapter 21. If you want to share your thoughts on the story, please drop a comment below and I hope you enjoy. <3

Silent whimpers pinched the air as the storm outside raged against the castle walls. Rain—capturing the eyes of the night beyond the clouds—crashed onto thick cobblestones only to slide down into the monstrous jaws of waves claiming the fjord and the isle as its own. 

As well as the boy’s slumber.

A young child shivered beneath the fort of pillows and blankets he pulled over his head, his chattering teeth on the verge of splitting his tongue. He swallowed thickly as the raindrops clapped against his window, cackling at every flinch he made while burrowing deeper into his bed.

“ _It’s just a storm,”_ his father’s voice soothed in his memories. _“The only thing it can do is trick you into being afraid.”_

The boy choked back on a whimper, fingers digging into his thick blanket.

 _I’m not afraid._ He told his self. _I’m. Not. Afraid._

A thundering echo of light sliced into the darkness, erupting into a frenzied roar that sent the boy’s heart flying off his tongue. The boy yelped, flinching in his fort only to regret it instantly. The boy’s legs tangled in the sheets of the bed, yet as he fought against the amorphous cotton arms his body rolled to the side and plummeted to the floor. As his cheek met the hardwood floor with a dull thud, a groan fell from the boy’s lips. He buried his teeth into his bottom lip, strangling the cry on the verge exploding and forced his self up.

His muscles sent sharp bolts of pain up his side in protest as the heavy comforter slid from his shoulders. Blinking back the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, the boy wrapped a small blanket littered in sewn snowflake prints and scurried to the door.

The door creaked open as the boy poked his head out into the hall. He quickly tiptoed down the hall, wincing at the squirming shadows snaking behind knight arms and vases. His heart hammered chaotically against his chest until he glanced upwards. His eyes glittered in hope at the blue door before him as he nearly tripped over the edge of his blanket to scurry towards it.

Sucking in a breath, the boy raised his hand towards the door with quivering lips.

 _This time._ He thought, nodding his head. _This time for sure._

He curled his fingers into a fist, ready to rap his knuckles against the cool wood until a large hand snatch his wrist. The boy bit back a yelp as he was twisted around and felt his heart drop. Steel, gray eyes burned into the boy until he felt his tongue twitching for words.

Gulping heavily, the air suddenly becoming too thin, the boy stuttered, “H-hi Uncle Ingvar.”

The man hovering over the boy arched an elegant eyebrow as he eyed the child up and down.

“What are you doing up?” The hushed, icy voice sent a shiver down the boy’s spine. The boy darted his eyes back to the door and up at the man sheepishly. Ingvar caught his glance and clucked his tongue. Red dusted the boy’s cheeks much to Ingvar’s delight as he chuckled, “You could have just come to me if you were scared.”

The boy glanced at the floor with slumped shoulders, pouting at the slippers covering his feet.

“I-I just wanted to—” He was cut off by a sharp gasp as the older man’s fingers dug into his wrist.

“You know the rules boy.” The words dripped in pure venom. “ _I told you not to disturb your brother._ ”

A few beads of tears dribbled down the boy’s cheeks, feeling his wrist tremble under the cold skin that was growing colder by the second. “But, Elias—” Any oppositions were torn from the boy’s tongue as ice slowly crept around his flesh, causing a hiss to spill through clenched teeth.

He didn’t want to break another rule by waking the palace.

Ingvar began dragging the boy down the hall, leaving a thin trail of ice behind him as they ventured deeper into the shadows. The boy struggled to not trip over his own feet, wishing for the shadows to whisk him into another sleepless nightmare in his room again. After all, it was better than the one dragging him.

The boy trembled as the shadows draped along the hall became clearer. His brows furrowed as he glanced up at the walls, bare of knights and paintings, that were covered in curtains of dust. Suddenly, the boy’s eyes widened, his blood roaring in his ears as Ingvar came to a halt amongst a door. He whirled his head up at the man pulling a key from his robe pocket and began to pull at his wrist.

“Uncle Ingvar, please!” The boy cried, voice cracking under the turmoil raving his being. “Not here! _Anywhere, but here!_ ”

The lock clicked and the door creaked open, dust shuddering down from rusted bolts. Ingvar glanced down at the boy’s glassy eyes, fighting back a scowl and the violent twitch of his free hand as the sky blue orbs stared up at him. Ingvar sucked in a breath and let a soft smile cross his lips as he leaned down. A lock of pale, blonde hair fell over his eyes, brushing over the boy’s forehead, as he whispered, “Who said I’d be joining you.”

He released his grip of the child’s wrist, throbbing a dull red, and shoved him into the room before them. The boy tripped over the edge of his blanket and crashed onto the floor while Ingvar smirked down at him. The slam that echoed throughout the room caused a sheen of sweat to begin rolling off the boy, yet the sharp, gentle clink of a lock sliding into place cause his heart to stop altogether.

Leaping to his feet, the child raced to the door, wiggling the doorknob frantically as it refused to budge. Tears streamed down the child’s cheeks, leaving red webs upon his eyes while his fist banged against the flaking, white wood. As his cries and pleas fell upon deaf ears that had left to the eastern wing of the palace, the boy crumbled to the floor with a silent wail. Burying his face in his blanket, the boy’s muffled cries rocked his body back and forth until another cry stole him from his own.

The boy sat up, rubbing the snot and tears from his face with the back of his sleeve as his ears perked up. The cries shuddered throughout the dust infested room, yet after cautiously peering behind threadbare bedposts, broken chairs, and vacant dressers—there was no one there save his self. The boy’s fingers crumbled the corner of the blanket in his hand, sucking in a sharp breath as he forced his voice to steadily call, “Hello?”

The crying continued while the boy blinked slowly, twirling around the room until he faced a blanketed object in the center. The sobs trembled through the blanket, leaving a trail of dread pooling in the boy’s stomach. The boy gulped, taking small steps forward. He stared at thick, white sheet draped over the object and brought his hand up. Trembling fingers grasped onto the sheet. With a flick of his wrist, the blanket fell, sliding off the edges of a silver canvas holding a mirror that was—empty. 

The boy blinked, mouth slack as he shook his head. The crying trembled along the canvas’s engravings, yet as he walked around the mirror there was no glass within the oval branch.

 _Okay,_ the boy thought uneasily, slapping the side of his head. _I’ve lost it._

Suddenly a flash of lightning struck through the darkness of the room, causing the boy jump back with a scream as he looked at the mirror. Though there was nothing within the canvas, as soon as the lightning sliced through shadows, another pair of startled, glassy eyes blinked back at him. As soon as the lightning fled the room, the mirror grew empty once more, but not without silencing the children’s cries.

“W-whose there?” a voice asked that was not the boy’s.

The boy gripped his chest, making sure his heart was still there, until he staggered to his feet.

“Uh…” the boy turned his head back and forth. “Me?”

“I’m not joking!” The voice snapped despite the tremble in his own voice from the mirror. “Show yourself!”

The boy blinked again, sighing as he scratched his head. “I kind of am.”

The voice from the mirror fell silent until another strike of lightning flooded the room. The boy caught a quick glimpse of another body in the mirror, yet it was not his own. A pile of small bones and ashen flesh bundled into the corner of a dark room rose from his corner, reflecting the startled gaze staring back at him until the lightning died down.

“How did you get in there?” The boy’s breath hitched at the back of his throat.

“In…” the voice started hesitantly. “Don’t you mean you’re _in_?”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

Silence settled over both of them until another bolt of light thundered against the castle. The two yelped while the lightning’s echoes cackled in the distance. The boy scurried over for his discarded blanket, wrapping it around his head until the voice called out again.

“Wait,” the voice said, making the boy freeze. “Y-you’re afraid?”

The boy bit the inside of his cheek as curled around the blanket. He took a hesitant step towards the mirror and shrugged.

“Y-yeah.” He sighed, sniffing slightly. He casted his gaze down on the floorboards shamefully.

“M-me too.”

The boy brought the blanket around his shoulders and scooted closer to the mirror. “Really?”

“Yeah.” The voice sighed with a low laugh. “I thought I was the only one who was afraid of them.”

A faint smile tip toed across the boy’s lips as he leaned against the mirror’s canvas. “So did I.”

As the clouds bundled together to spit out another bolt of lightning, the boy glanced out of the small window in the room and cringed. His fingers were ready to throw the blanket over his head until he looked down at crescent rings were buried in his palm from his nails. He glanced at the mirror, looking straight at the wall before him, and murmured, “Do you wanna hold my hand?”

The voice sniffled, blindly eyeing the outstretched palm before him as he tentatively reached for the tiny hand. The boy’s heart skipped a beat as a pale hand suddenly around his, their mingled sweat causing their palms to fit together.

“My name’s Andy.” The boy smiled, his heart slowing down as he squeezed his hand around the palm from out of nowhere. “What’s yours?”

Lightning struck within the room, casting the shadows back against their owners as Andy’s eyes widened. A pair of ice blue orbs twinkled in the darkness of their own prison; the light tangling in the jungle of his ivory locks while a soft smile bloomed upon his lips. Andy felt the color drain from his face, choking on the dried out tongue holding back his scream, as the boy in the empty mirror murmured,

“Elias."


	2. Chapter 1

As auroras of pale gold and peach broke through the horizon, morning light fluttered over the village and castle; slowly creeping along the walls to slither through the windows. While daybreak idly roused the spirits of Arendelle, anxiety pierced right through the heart of the castle.

The servants of the palace scurried through the halls, piles upon piles of cleaning tools and silverware being scampered about. All the while whispers fizzled in the atmosphere in time with shining the halls and baking for not just the meeting between the royal executives of the Isles and Arendelle. There were rumors of a union between the two to nations. Rumors of a future. A future bundled in a minuscule blanket of joy.

“I heard the Eastern Isles’ princess is coming,” a maid whispered to her companion, dusting off a coat of arms in the hallway.

The other maid rolled her eyes, spitting onto her washcloth as she rubbed it against a particularly difficult smudge on the armor. “I didn’t know beggars were allowed to these meetings anymore. And if anything, our king won’t even spare a glance at her.”

The maid shot a glare at her friend, leaning back to examine the armor. “And who do you _think_ he’ll be interested in?”

“Not some scrawny, washboard,” she snapped, throwing her washcloth over her shoulder. She glanced at the other maid with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “I heard the Northern Isles is sending their king, and what better candidate than someone up to his speed?”

The maid’s eyes widened as a blush burned across her cheeks.

“You don’t think…” She started.

“Pfft, I’m joking idiot.” She said as they headed down the hall. She leaned over and whispered, “But really, who _wouldn’t_ want a piece of him?”

The maid’s blush grew darker as she swatted at her friend’s arm with her duster, unbeknownst to them however, their said king just behind the corner. Elias rolled his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose irritably as he ventured down the hall once more. His stomach twisted into a knot at the recent bombardments of future heirs and marriage during meetings, now they were slithering into his halls as well. A shudder ran down his spine as he glanced down at the floor. He winced, at the trail of snow following his heels.

 _I’m king for barely three years,_ he thought with a grimace, flicking his wrist at the snow as it instantly disappeared. _And I’m already being pushed into the breeding pool._

He shook his head and brought his gaze up towards the hall with a soft smile. He came to a halt in front of a white door and gently rapped his knuckles against the wood. As he waited, his fingers twined together behind his back while he sucked in a breath.

 _Get it together, Elias!_ He chastised his self as he knocked on the door again.

“Andy?” Elias called softly. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me for breakfast. I have some free time before my next meeting.”

The silence that answered him made his fingers twine themselves tighter.

 _Was wondering if you’d like to join me for breakfast?_ Elias frowned at the words he just spoke. _Great, could you be any more diplomatic?_ Elias’s brows furrowed as the silence ate away his patience.

“Andy?” Elias called again, knocking on the door with a bit more force. Not even a snore answered his calls. He mumbled under his breath, “You can just say ‘no,’ you know?”

“Good morning, your majesty.”

Elias whirled around to be greeted with a small bow who looked from him to the door with a soft smile. Elias blinked, shaking his head as he nodded towards the woman.

“Good morning, Kai.” He ran a hand through his ivory locks with a soft groan. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Kai shrugged her shoulders, tucking a basket full of folded sheets under her arm.

“If you’re looking for your brother, he’s not here.” She said. Elias arched an eyebrow at her as she continued, “He got up _early_ this morning. Said he had some _‘princely matters’_ to attend to.”

Elias sheepishly eyed the door and back at his head maid.

“Do you know where he is now?” he asked.

“Somewhere about in the market. He’ll be back later this afternoon, just in time to prepare for the meeting.” She added the last part quickly as he nodded.

His heart sank, trudging downstairs to his study while glancing out of the windows adorning the halls. _So much for our little talk_ , Elias thought bitterly. After addressing the maids to bring his meal to his study, Elias sank into the thick chair with a sigh. He glanced down at the scattered letters upon his desk, cringing at each parchment. He snatched one in his hand, ignoring the frost slowly decorating its edges as he sighed, “I’m sure he’ll be—”

“—reasonable? You call _this_ reasonable?” Andy snapped at a man behind a booth.

The man rolled his eyes as he watched the small man shake a ring in his hand. Hoards of villagers strolled through the market, sparing a glance at the booth uneasily as the man fumed.

“Sir,” the owner of the booth said, “If you want the ring, you’ll pay what I ask.”

Andy narrowed his eyes as he pulled his hat further down over his head, growling, “I would pay if you weren’t being a con-artist right now.”

The thin frown lines around the owner’s mouth deepened, leaning over Andy.

“500 krones is completely reasonable for such a gem.”

Andy’s brows furrowed deeper, his fiery, blue orbs challenging the man. He pressed closer onto the booth’s stand, hissing, “Not when it was 200 yesterday.”

“If you won’t pay, then go find another ring!” The owner snarled at the boy, snatching the ring from his hand.

Andy flinched, glancing longingly at the silver ring with jade and sapphire gems embedded into the metal. He bit his lip, tugging at his hat heatedly, and stormed away from the booth. He sauntered through the crowd to the side of the street, where a man glanced up at him uneasily. Andy leaned back against their cart with a scowl stretching over his lips.

“Your highness,” the man murmured softly. “Don’t you think we should be heading back to the castle now?” Andy’s glared at the jewelry booth he was just at as he crossed his arms. “You must prepare for the meeting after all.”

Andy glanced down at the man beside him, his doughy cheeks dusted a light red from the cool chill autumn had settled upon the kingdom. He shrugged his shoulders, brushing thick strands of his hair under his hat.

“Don’t worry Georg.” He said. “This is all part of the game.”

“Game?” Georg arched his brows.

“Yeah. You see that stubborn owner over there,” Andy nodded his head to the jewelry booth where the owner was now fawning over a new customer. Andy clucked his tongue, “He’s going to try and sell that ring, but once he sees no one wants to buy it I’ll creep my back over there and buy it for a good 350 krones.”

Georg glanced over at the booth, watching a woman cloaked in a dark brown shawl examine the ring carefully under the light. “Your highness, I think he’s going to sell it.”

Andy waved him off. “He’s not going to sell it.”

“She’s bringing out the krones.”

“She’s not bringing out—”

“He’s taking the krones.”

“He’s not taking—”

“He sold it.”

“What?”

Andy bolted from the side of the road, darting through the crowd of villagers until he slammed his hands onto the booth’s stall. Nostrils flaring, Andy pointed to the woman who was walking away.

“What was that?” he gawked.

The owner eyed him up and down with a shrug. “She wanted it. She bought it. It’s that simple.”

Andy’s fingers dragged his hat over his head. He swallowed down the stream of curses lining up on his tongue, slowly backing away from the booth. He squinted through the crowd, watching helplessly as the woman and _his_ ring disappeared.

“What person pays 500 krones for a piece of metal?” He groaned.

“She paid 350.”

Andy snapped his eyes up at the owner, his fingers twitching for the man’s wrinkled collar. “I offered the same deal!”

The owner smirked down at him as the boy seethed. Scratching the bare spot of his scalp he shrugged, “She was cuter.”

Andy’s eye twitched, all inhibitions of keeping out of sight in public thrown into the wind as he leaped over the booth’s stand. As he crashed against the owner, passer bys turned towards the booth with wide eyes while a group of soldiers huddled over. One of the soldiers kneeled down, carefully laying a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Sir, please, let—” the soldier was jerked off to the side as Andy sent of flurry of punches and kicks upon the owner. The soldier glanced over to his companions, giving them a nod as they leaped onto the boy to drag him away.

The soldiers wrapped their arms around Andy’s flailing arms, peeling him away from the owner’s body. The owner hacked, rubbing his neck as the boy’s legs kicked in frenzy. Andy growled, cursing at the owner waving goodbye to him with a smirk, as he was dragged away from the market place. Georg ran a hand over his face, sighing exasperatedly while jogging through the path of villagers huddling around the soldiers.

“Lord, help us tonight.” He prayed under his breath, making a straight beeline to the soldiers.


	3. Chapter 2

Blood was ready to burst under Andy’s teeth as he chewed mercilessly upon his bottom lip. Yet the burning pain that throbbed beneath the flesh was nothing compared to the icy glare pinning him to the concrete slab in the cell. Andy’s lips swerved between a frown and a smirk at the guard just in front of his cell, wrinkling his nose at him with each furrow of the elder’s brows.

“Yes.” He heard a voice say. “I understand…no, _it won’t_ happen again…”

As the two voices negotiate, the guard sighed and stomped over to the boy’s cell. The bars squeaked, scratching its rust against one another, as the man swung the cell door open. Andy blinked up at the guard scratching the coarse hair clinging to his chin. He grunted, “You’re free to go.”

Andy sighed inwardly, stumbling over his boots as he felt blood run through his legs once more. Kicking through the thick piles of straw on the floor, Andy staggered out of the cell. As soon as he set one foot outside of the prison, a gloved hand wrapped around his elbow, causing him to flinch as he was dragged him down the hall.

The boy bit his tongue, holding down a sharp retort for the touch and heaved a sigh. _Don’t make another fool of yourself than you’ve already have._ He murmured in the back of his head, jerking his arm out of the guard’s grasp.

“I can walk on my own.” He snipped, tugging the wool hat over his head down further, while the guard’s eyes narrowed as he reached for the boy again. Andy’s teeth dug deeper into his tongue at the man’s fingers wrapping around his arm again.

 _Not here Andy,_ he breathed quietly. _Not here._

The front of the holding cell came to view around the corner as the two stepped out of the cell block where the owners of the voices stood. The head guard nodded to the man holding Andy who let go of the boy with a snarl twisting the scars on his cheeks into miniature glares. Andy shook his arm free, glaring back at the man until large arms engulfed him.

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” Georg sighed. He turned back to the head guard and bowed his head. “I assure you, my nephew won’t be of any trouble to you again.”

The guard who brought Andy out growled under his breath, “He better not.”

Before Andy could growl out a remark of his own, Georg gently patted him out of the temporary containment building all the while nodding his thanks with quick bows. As they stepped out of the building, the brisk autumn air brushed over Andy’s nose, flooding out the musk rate feces that polluted the containment cell. The two walked in silence down the street until Georg shot a soft glare at him.

“Nephew?” Andy gawked, arching an eyebrow at the man. “That was the best relation to me you could conjure?”

“Don’t start _your majesty_.” Georg snapped, controlling the bark behind his voice. “The young prince being arrested for attacking a common jeweler wouldn’t have rested well with the public if they discovered who you were. In fact, I’m almost tempted to let my King know what the country’s prince has been up to, but enough about that.” Georg heatedly glared at the boy as he asked, “What was that?”

“What?”

“ _That!_ ” Georg waved his hand back at the market square, ducking under a group of villagers stringing dark orange banners across the lampposts. “What on earth got into you to attack that poor man?”

“Poor?” Andy snorted. “Poor wouldn’t rip you off when you made a deal.” He paused as a frown creased over Georg’s brows. Andy sighed, slumping his shoulders as he kicked at the ground. “I don’t know, Georg. I…I just couldn’t help myself.”

Georg shook his head, the squeaks of wheelbarrows and cackling bars filling the silence between them. “Your highness, these…tempers of yours have been growing out of control lately. Is there something you want to talk about? Maybe something for me to mention to—”

“No!” Andy wrapped a hand around Georg’s shoulder, yanking him off his footing before he immediately let go of him. The boy lowered his gaze onto the cobblestones. “I…I’m sorry. I…I’m sorry.”

Georg’s gaze flickered over the crumbled expression of his master shaking his head, murmuring to his self. He sighed, absentmindedly dusting off the stray straws snagged onto Andy’s cloak.

“Well,” Georg shrugged, plucking the last strand of straw from Andy’s shoulder. “I suppose every prince has his bad days, just as long as he learns from them. _Right?_ ”

“Right,” Andy grumbled, sending an empty glare towards the lampposts glittering a dim gold flame against the cape of dusk settling over the village.

Georg followed his gaze as their eyes landed on the night beginning to suckle at the moon’s pearly crest. Georg clucked his tongue, snatching the pocket watch from his breast pocket.

“It’s this late already?” he mumbled to his self, gazing back up at the pale sliver of the moon once more. “Shame. I would’ve liked to see the autumn moon tonight.”

Andy glanced down at glimmering orbs drinking in the oncoming night with a frown. “You can always go to the festival, you know.” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Georg shook his self out of his reverie with a sad smile. “No. My duty is to you, your majesty.” He patted the boy’s shoulder as they began walking once more. “Now, let’s get you ready for the meeting, hmm?”

Andy ran his hands over his face, groaning heatedly, “Screw the meeting!” He felt a hand swat his arm and he sheepishly added, “Sorry.”

Fingers fumbled over the ties of his trousers as Andy batted Georg’s hands away. His lips swerved into a pout, jerking his shoulders away from the shorter man and closer towards the changing screen.

“I can dress myself, Georg,” Andy bantered, clasping his hands over his self as he slithered behind the screen.

“Of course you can,” Georg rolled his eyes, “that’s why you suit was inside out at the last banquet meeting with Princess Catherine.”

Andy’s eyes narrowed at the man, snapping, “That was one time!”

Georg sighed, throwing his hands to his sides in defeat as he shuffled to the door.

“Fine.” As the door swung open, Georg casted a glance over his shoulder with a smirk. “Just remember to keep your small clothes on you unlike _yesterday_.”

The older man chuckled out of the room as a pile of clothes were thrown at his heels. Andy’s cheeks puffed out, sliding his shirt over his shoulders while buttoning up the dark green vest.

 _Stupid Georg,_ he mumbled to his self. _Nearly a grown man, and he still treats me like a child._ Andy stepped out from behind the screen, grunting silently at the strings of his vest that slipped through his fingers. A tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he narrowed his eyes on the golden thread before him, yet loose ends continued to falter.

“Come on.” He groaned. A squeak met his ears in the middle of another failing tie, causing his eye to twitch. As he heard quiet footsteps enter the room, his brows furrowed into a frown. Without looking up he snapped, “Get out Georg! I can do this myself!”

“Really?” Andy flinched at the soft chuckle flitting by his ears. He whipped his gaze around his shoulder, finding Elias leaning against the edge of his bed. The elder brought his hand from his mouth after stifling another chuckle, taking a hesitant step towards the boy. He nodded towards his vest. “May I?”

Andy blinked, his question slowly seeping through his conscious before shaking his head. “Uh, sure. Go ahead.”

Elias’s cape swept across the floor as he towered over the other, his fingers briskly tying the strings across Andy’s vest automatically. Andy watched his thin fingers tie and bind his vest together as if in a waltz while his eyes darted everywhere in the room aside from his brother. Andy’s glued his gaze upon the thin, blue fabric that dusted over his floor.

“A cape,” Andy snorted, “ _really?_ ”

Elias rolled his eyes as he moved to straighten the sash around the vest. The crimson fabric slid across Andy’s chest while Elias shook his head.

“Appearances have a strong impact on others,” he said. “You know that.” Elias’s fingers moved to the cloth flung around Andy’s neck, carefully tucking it into his collar until he finally asked, “So, how was your errand?”

Andy repressed a flinch, forcing his eyes to analyze every stitch among the cape. “It was…okay, I guess.”

“Well what did you do?” Elias pressed gently. “It must have been pretty important for you to get up on time for.”

Andy fiddled with the end of his jacket, counting off the intricate stitches, _Fifty-one stitches, fifty-two stitches…_ He shrugged his shoulders.

“It wasn’t _that_ important,” he murmured. “Just a few rounds is all.”

The corners of Elias’s lips twitched, bordering on a frown until the trained smile he learned smoothed over. He carefully puffed out the cloth around Andy’s neck, stepping back to give him a once over.

“There,” he forced out with a plastered smile. “Perfect.”

Andy crossed his arms, glancing at the full sized mirror next to the screen and back at Elias. The elder’s hair was ruffled back to tickle the back of his neck while the dark blue suit, with the tiniest hint of snowflakes sparkling in the candle light, hugged his muscular frame.

“Sure,” Andy fought the urge to roll his eyes. “ _Perfect._ ”

Elias let the frown he was concealing slant over his lips. “Not with that attitude.” His glance over brought his attention to the mop of hair tangled upon the boy’s head. “Or that hair. Haven’t you ever heard of a comb?” Elias leaned forward with his fingers combing through strawberry-blonde locks as he plucked and pulled the strands. Andy yelped, batting at the other’s arms as he shrunk away.

“Elias, stop!” Andy whined, only to be hushed by Elias as he fixed his hair. Finally, the elder brushed the remaining strands back from Andy’s eyes.

“Now you almost look presentable.” Elias nodded.

“Almost?” Andy gasped mockingly. “I thought you said I was ‘ _perfect_?’”

Elias shrugged, a slight grin teasing his lips at the chuckle behind Andy’s mock hurt, then let it fall as he stared at the boy.

“Andy?” Andy looked up at Elias. “Are you nervous?”

Andy blinked, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. “A little. It’s not like you’re not nervous either.”

“I had my first meeting when I was 13.”

Andy’s shoulders slouched slightly and brought his gaze down on the floor, kicking at the imaginary dirt that lingered there. “Oh. Right.”

Unbeknownst to Andy however, Elias flinched at the younger’s inner retreat. _Smooth, Elias. Smooth._ He chastised his self. _Way to ease your brother’s nerves by rubbing in what he never did!_ Elias sucked in a breath, blowing an ivory bang from his eyes as his fingers twitched towards Andy’s shoulder. Just as his fingers were about to brush over the thick fabric the door squeaked open again with a cool breeze flooding the heated air. The frown swerving across Elias’s mouth fell along with his hand as boots tapped at the doorway.

“So this is where you two have been hiding.” 

The smooth, soft voice sent a shudder down Andy’s spine while Elias’s back straightened instantly. Their eyes pried themselves from each other and roamed over towards the man leaning against the door frame, a stark white against the dark cherry wood frame.

“I thought you weren’t the gossiping type.” He mused.

Elias forced a half smile at the man. “You know we aren’t Ingvar. We were just…” He casted a glance over at Andy, who kept his eyes trained on the floor, and sighed, “talking.”

“Well,” Ingvar said, walking over to the two. “Perhaps you could ‘talk’ your way back to your notes.”

“I already went over what I wanted to say,” Elias laughed, “ _several_ times thanks to you.”

“You can never be too prepared.” Ingvar tapped Elias’s shoulder. “Now shoo. You’re probably making Anders a nervous wreck.”

“Whatever Ingvar,” Elias rolled his eyes as he took his leave. He paused, looking back at Andy. “I’ll see you in the hall Andy.”

“Y-yeah,” Andy stuttered, shifting from foot to foot as he rubbed his arm. “See you there.”

Elias opened his mouth and closed it again, his cape fluttering at his heels behind him down the hall. Ingvar shook his head, smirking about the king’s overconfidence, and turned towards Andy. A smile crawled across his thin lips as he nodded to him.

“You look handsome.” He said.

Andy shrugged his shoulders, mumbling, “T-thanks.”

Ingvar clucked his tongue, bringing his hand below the boy’s chin and tilted his head up. “Don’t mumble your thanks boy. It’s unbecoming.”

Andy couldn’t help the wince at the man’s icy touch as he forced his gaze upon the silver eyes peering down on him. The corners of Ingvar’s smile twitched ever so slightly, yet the pools of silver only narrowed on him. Ingvar’s fingers tightened around Andy’s chin.

“Now, what did you say?”

The eerie calm tingeing his voice made the tentative venom in his words made Andy’s skin crawl. Andy gulped heavily, his breath hitching at the back of his throat as he said, “Thank you Uncle.”

The stormy, silver irises were quelled by the response. Ingvar let go of the boy’s chin, patting the top of his head warmly. “Good boy.” Andy forced his limbs to stay still as he felt Ingvar’s eyes roam over his suit, practically stripping him bare.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, finally bringing his gaze back to Andy’s with a soft smile.

“Y-yes, Uncle.” Andy replied, cursing at the way his tongue tangled up with his words.

“There’s no need to be, child.” Ingvar swept his hand in the air while a minuscule froth of snowflakes pool at his fingertips. “It’s more of a ball than a meeting anyway.” Andy bit back a yelp as the man tapped the sides of his cheeks with arctic fingers, causing a dash of red to bloom upon his cheeks.

“That should hide those pasty freckles of yours.” Ingvar hummed to his self, tapping the tip of Andy’s nose. He swayed his hand in the air again and the snowflakes dissolved in the air. Ingvar placed his hands upon Andy’s golden epaulets and squeezed his shoulders. “You’ll do fine, I’m sure.”

“Thank you Uncle.” Andy nodded. “I just hope I can do my part.”

Ingvar tilted his head at him, tapping his nose again. “We all have our parts, child, that serve bigger portions in life than others. Where even your role is very important in these matters. After all, you do want to help strengthen your brother’s rule. _Don’t you?_ ”

Andy flinched, the metal of the epaulets gnawing its cold through the jacket. “O-of course I do!”

The thin smile returned to Ingvar’s lips as he patted the side of Andy’s cheek. “Good. Just look out for one itty bitty, nit-picky thing while you’re at the meeting.” Andy arched an eyebrow before the smile withered from the man’s lips and a deadpan frown possessed his eyes. “Don’t slouch. Knees straight. Glide when you walk. Don’t slurp. Don’t chew with your mouth open as you always do—” Andy winced at the merciless flurry of rules thrown at him while Ingvar’s hands assaulted his posture into proper position. Andy’s heart shuddered in his chest as the list droned on and on. “—always smile. Stay behind your king…and one last thing, child.”

Andy gulped, nodding hesitantly. Ingvar raised his hand, letting his fingers idly tap the combed back locks upon Andy’s head before letting his index finger pull down a mop of hair down over his eyes.

“ _Do_ keep that temper of yours in check.”

Andy’s nails dug into his palm, feeling the sickly smirk twisting over the elder’s lips as he slammed the door behind him. Andy blinked back the warmth plucking at the corner of his eyes before heaving a sigh. He carefully brushed hair from his eyes about to comb it back into place until he glanced at the mirror. Aqua orbs winced at the slight, bony shoulders struggling to hold the epaulets in place while the suit seemed to devour his frame in bulky arms and legs. Andy bit down on his lip, dropping the mop of hair back over his eye, just above his eyebrow.

Turning away from the mirror, Andy straightened his shoulders while Ingvar’s words echoed in his conscience.

_We all have our parts, child, that serve bigger portions of life than others._

“Yours is just smaller than the rest.” Andy finished with a sigh.


	4. Chapter 3

Andy’s fingers twined behind his back constantly, his cheeks aching from the smile plastered on his lips for the past hour. His nose wrinkled at the overwhelming waves of perfume and cologne radiating from the royal gentries and representatives in the throne. The foreign flutters of sweetness and spices quickly morphed into a mesh of scents that made his stomach curdle. Yet, the boy kept the smile on his lips despite the twitch in his fingers to cup his nose in hand.

 _Appearances are everything._ He told his self. _Appearances are everything._

His gaze flittered over the thick mounds of gowns and suits that moved throughout the ball room, either hovering over the country’s king or simply basking in the glow of the faint orchestra playing on the side. He felt his eye twitch.

 _This isn’t meeting. And it’s far from a ball._ Andy groaned to his self. _This is an abomination of kissing up!_

Andy gently tugged at the cloth at his collar, relishing at the cool air that slipped onto the patch of exposed skin. Suddenly, he felt an elbow prodding at his rib cage, causing him to flinch. He looked up to see Ingvar glaring at him softly as he nodded ahead of him. Andy whipped his head towards the crowd of gentries engulfing Elias and scurried behind, merely trailing after the edge of his brother’s cape.

_Am I participating or playing coat of arms?_

“—I understand that you believe that the water supply could be contaminated Lady Lenore, however, accusing the Draugen Clan is extremely risky.” Andy caught the last snippet of Elias’s explanation when he finally caught up with him.

“Yes, but—” A woman with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun started.

“What my wife is trying to say, your grace, is that in the case of the Draugen being the culprits,” the man at her side cut in, shooting her a dirty glare, “we would greatly appreciate it if you would be willing to step in.”

Elias quirked a brow, his gaze flicking between the French gentry and his wife, with a still face until he cleared his throat.

“Of course, Arendelle would be more than willing to provide you with as much cleansed water to your people as we can, but I will not risk the lives of my people because of an accusation without further evidence.” The gentry’s mustache wrinkled, hiding the quite snarl of his lips, while the Lady Lenore looked off to the side, fiddling with a loose string of her glove.

“But, your majesty,” the gentry stuttered, dragging a thick tongue over his lips. “You yourself know how these matters occur. First it’s little things of sabotage, then it’s the riots, and the next thing you know orphans are being slaughtered and sold.”

“Dear, I think—” Lady Lenore placed a hand on the gentry’s shoulder only for the man to tear his arm from her grasp.

“I came to you for this assistance my lord, for I knew _you_ of all people would understand the signs. These are the signs of a bloody war that’s knocking on our doorstep.”

“Louis, _please_ ,” Lady Lenore pleaded, her small eyes flicking at the fellow gentries starting to turn an open ear towards their conversation. Yet, the gentry pressed on.

“A war I’m prepared to face!” the gentry exclaimed, stamping his boot onto the marble floor.

Elias sighed, his face as still as the sky as he calmly started, “I understand that Lord Louis. I really do. But without proof of a threat at the moment, I cannot and will not send any of my men to be engulfed into a blind gamble.”

“B-blind gamble?” Lord Louis stuttered, his cheeks growing red and puffy as he stomped his foot again. “You’ve been in war yourself. _Twice_ need I remind you while you were still sucking on your mother’s tit. What’s the point of fighting if you don’t even bother using those god damned powers—”

“Louis!” Lady Lenore swatted at her husband’s arm, anxiously watching the creases of Elias’s brows and mouth.

A violin bow screeched over the strings and froze, the orchestra and gentries falling silent as they watched their king. Andy gulped heavily. Everyone knew and _shuddered_ at the mere mention of the Grimm and Mist Haven wars. The military was growing severely thin as corpses, orcs, and madmen outnumbered their forces, making kingdoms become desperate for men to fill their flanks to have enough time to flee themselves. That is until that desperation fell from men to boys. One of those boys being the man whose silence made the room wait in agony.

With wind of Arendelle’s future king possessing an extraordinary power unlike any other, hundreds of kingdoms begged for him to protect their people. And with barely a voice at 13 and even less of one at 15, what choice did the boy have. The gods the people of Arendelle prayed to over an agonizing year and another two years watched over the boy to become the man standing in the ball room at that moment. Yet, no one _dared_ mention the wars around the king. It was a chapter meant to be closed unless told otherwise. And now the chapter was ripped from its hinges and fluttering in front of the man’s face.

Andy’s eyes trailed over towards Elias, watching the dimmest twitch of his jaw as he let out a sigh. The faint scar running from the corner of his eye down to the tip of his chin swelled to life as Elias shook his head.

 _What other scars did he get from those wars?_ Andy wondered.

Then again, he gulped, did he _really_ want to know?

Elias blinked down at the gentry, who had realized the boundaries he had crossed and had shrunk back against his wife, with a thin line pulling at his lips. His voice steadied into an eerie calm as he brushed a lock of hair behind his ear and looked towards Lady Lenore. “Lady Lenore, you love to dance don’t you?”

Lady Lenore flinched, snapping her gaze to Elias’s with a quiet mutter of yes. Elias’s lips pulled into a soft smile.

“You remember my younger brother, yes?” “Elias glanced over his shoulder at Andy, beckoning him closer with a sway of his head. Andy blinked, quickly stumbling behind Elias. Lady Lenore nodded, barely sparing a glance at the boy before Elias continued. “You have to forgive me, I’m quite a horrid dancer, but my brother on the hand is a prodigy.” Andy gawked at him, ready to open his mouth to retort before the elder’s ice, blue eyes twinkled down on him. “Andy, why don’t you give Lady Lenore a dance, hmm? I’m sure she would appreciate a break from these…heavy subjects.”

“O-of course,” Andy shook his self out of his daze, offering his arm to woman with a nod, “My Lady?”

Lady Lenore tentatively grasped onto the boy’s arm as the small orchestra’s quiet music slowly thawed the ball room’s thick atmosphere. Elias watched as Andy and Lady Lenore disappeared among the throng of other gentries before glancing down at Lord Louis again. His mouth fell into a small frown as he grasped a champagne flute from a server. After nodding his thanks to the man, he eyed the intricate glass in his hand, barely noting Lord Louis’s presence.

“Lord Louis,” he said, eyes roaming over the bubbling gold grasping along the edges of the glass. “Did you know that I was barely 13 when I killed my first man?” The man squirmed in his spot, running his fingers over his thinning hair as he nodded.

“I heard rumors.”

“Rumors.” Elias chuckled. “If only they stayed that way.” He brought the glass down from his gaze and stared at the man. “My lord, I know the horrors war brings as well as you do. How it corrodes the innocence of man into a broken shell of his former self and I, too, notice the signs of the Draugen Clan bearing its teeth at the rest of the world. However,” Elias stepped forward, towering over the man as his voice dropped into a frail—venomous whisper, “I won’t risk innocent lives of my country without their say as well as ensuring their protection. War makes a monster out of all us.”

“But,” the lord gulped, “I didn’t mean to imply…you’re by no means—”

“Oh, I am Louis. I am.” Elias chuckled absentmindedly. “I just do a better job keeping my fangs hidden than others.” The gentry gulped, glancing at the pale mop of wife in the crowd, guilt prickling in his stomach, before returning to the king’s narrowed glare. “Now, unless you wish to discuss saving your people from mercury poisoning in their wells, there is nothing left to speak of.”

Elias pressed the champagne flute into the other’s sweat slicked palms, turning on his heel before the man stuttered, “Wait!” Elias froze, casting a glance over his shoulder as the man said, “I…my people _need_ fresh water, my king.”

Elias’s frown slowly faded into a smile as he turned back and patted the gentry’s shoulder.

“Of course. We’ll work together on the process shipping and purifying methods as soon as possible, but for now,” he tapped the glass. “Please, enjoy the rest of the meeting.” Elias moved away from the gentry, his thin, almost translucent edge of his cape flapping at his heels.

As the man was thrown into another throng of issues—coincidentally all revolving around the Draugen—a hand brushed against Lord Louis’s shoulder.

“Pleasant evening, isn’t it?” Lord Louis jumped, turning around to be greeted by a thin smile.

Lord Louis raised an eyebrow as he tapped the rim of the glass against his lips. “Oh, Sir Ingvar, y-yes a pleasant evening it is.”

Ingvar chuckled lowly, his pale hair swaying against his back, and nodded in Elias’s direction. “I hope your conversation turned out well.”

“Yes it did. Please excuse me for that little scene earlier. Your nephew has…quite a way of persuading others. You taught him well.”

“Oh, no. He learned that his self. I was just there to pick up the pieces and provide him with the best.” Ingvar grinned sheepishly, crinkling the frail wrinkles around his eyes. He soon tilted his head to the side, the grin slimming into a frown ever so slightly. “You’ve been in combat yourself haven’t you, Lord?” Lord Louis nodded, blinking curiously. “But have you’ve ever seen _him_ in combat? I was only able to see him in one battle before he had to part, but there is such a tragic beauty to how he fights. To bring him into battle is to sentence every last morsel of opposition to a fate worse than death, so I’ve heard from other soldiers who’ve seen him at closer range.”

“Is that so?” Lord Louis asked, eyeing the king listening intently to a princess regent. “Well, it all turned out right in the end didn’t it? He stopped two wars and lived to tell the tale.”

“Yes, he did. Which is why,” Ingvar started, snatching a champagne flute of his own in hand. “It was quite risky for you to reopen scars.” Lord Louis fought the urge to glance back up at Elias again, finally swigging the champagne from his glass and looked back at the former king beside him. “Ready to make him turn against you.”

“But, he didn’t. He has enough feeling left not to do that.”

Ingvar hummed at that, moving away from Lord Louis for a moment before looking back at him. “You know he killed his first man at 13, yes?”

“I know,” Lord Louis retorted with a roll of his eyes. “He told me that just now.”

“He didn’t mention _how_ he did it?”

Lord Louis shook his head as a ghost of a smile turned grimace crossed the other gentry’s features. “Let’s just say that by the end of the battle, the poor soul didn’t need his vocal chords or brain anymore.”

Andy’s hand trembled around the silken violet around the small of Lady Lenore’s back as they slowly waltzed in a small circle of dancers. His eyes constantly glanced down at his feet, then back up at the woman as she drawled on with another tale of her visits to foreign lands.

 _One, two, look up. One, two, look up,_ Andy told his self with each step, careful not to snag his boot onto the glittering hem of her dress.

“And would you believe that the native chased me for my hand all the back to my ship. Alas, ‘it wasn’t meant to be’ I told him as I pulled my hand from his grasp, for—would you believe it—Louis flies down from the masts and battled the native with his sword, knocking the poor thing into the water.” Lenore exclaimed. “Oh, it was all so terribly romantic!”

“Of course.” Andy nodded, only catching snippets of what she said as he continued to monitor his steps. A chuckle rumbled from Lenore’s throat, the heavy amethyst gem laced upon her jugular as he looked up only to wince. A dark mauve bruise slithered from the top of her bodice to tickle just below the broach around her neck. Andy fought the urge to glance back at her husband and mumbled, “Romantic.”

Lady Lenore shook her head, dusting Andy’s vest with fractals of powder and tilted her head at him. His stomach twisted at the thin, blue veins throbbing painfully at her temple where her hair was tightly pulled back until she spoke again.

“You must feel so lucky to have a man such as the king as your brother.” She said.

“Yes,” Andy replied, “lucky, me.”

“Well, since we’re well acquainted now Andrew—”

“It’s Anders actually.”

“—you must tell me, and don’t leave out any details,” she leaned closer towards him, causing him to stumble back slightly. The sickly stench of flowers made the boy’s eyes water, fighting back the urge to stare at the fleshy lips stark against the woman’s pale face. “Has our king been having any _burning_ desires as of late?”

Andy arched an eyebrow at her. “I beg your pardon.”

“Oh, you know boy,” she said swatting at his arm lightly. “What kind of women does he have a strong interest in?”

Andy blinked, the question slowly sinking in until he flinched. The two stumbled back, bumping into another couple dancing before he regained his footing. He swallowed thickly.

 _Elias and women?_ The two words tasted foreign in his mouth. In fact the idea never dawned on him that one day an heir would have to be produced at some point. He shuddered, the words crossing between sour and bitter.

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t know.” He said. “My bro—king seems to be too busy to worry about…romance.”

 _Is it even legal to put Elias and romance in the same sentence?_ He pondered to his self.

Lenore snorted, “Oh, I know that! Men _never_ have time for romance and chivalry of the sorts, in fact neither do women. Romance has lost its place in the world, but I digress.”Andy blinked at the woman, before she continued. “Surely your king must be stressed and have some sorts of relief, hmm? What better way to kill two birds with one stone with a wife.”

Andy grimaced at the thought, quickly batting the bubbling images from his mind. “I’m sorry, but I truly doubt Eli—the king would want to venture into that territory right now. He’s quite serious about that sort of thing and would rather wait.”

Lenore’s teasing smirk twisted into a frown as she shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. You can’t rush these things to early, you know. However,” her lips brushed against his ear, “I heard that there’s a proposal brewing right now as we speak. In fact, it could be announced later tonight.”

Andy froze, Lenore stumbling over his boots and crashing against his chest.

“He…never told me anything about that.” He murmured.

“Like you said, he was probably too busy ruling and what not.” Lenore said, straightening the folds of her dress as the music came to an end. She gave him a small curtsy. “If you excuse me Andrew, I have some other gentries to speak to, but I’ll look for you for the next dance.”

Andy nodded with a sheepish grin, watching the overgrown dress bop through the crowd while wiping the side of his ear. He glanced at the thick pink residue from her lipstick crumble in his fingers and frowned. “ _It’s Anders._ ”

Looking around in the sea of gentries and politics, Andy let out a breath as he moved through the crowd towards the balcony. Drawing the doors closed behind him, Andy leaned against the balcony with a groan.

“Wars, politics, marriage…I’m surprised no one brought up any famines while they were at it.” Andy mumbled into his palm.

He glanced up at the darkness devouring the sky, watching the crest of the moon slice through the night as it drizzled its stars down upon them. A soft smile crept across his lips. “The moon is lovely tonight,” he sighed, pressing his weight against the stone railing. His smile soon melted into a pout as Georg’s words before they entered the castle echoed in the back of his mind.

_“My younger sister and I watched the moon every festival.” Georg smiled. “Maybe you and the king could during the meeting.”_

Andy’s hand clenched around the railing at the thought, while Lady Lenore’s words twisted his insides into knots. A shudder raced down Andy’s spine until a sharp burn pinched his cheek. He yelped, falling back from the railing as he looked down at the garden below. Another burn pinched the other side of his cheek, causing him to squint at the ground. A small pebble wobbled back and forth along the ground while a hissing sound pierced the air.

“Down here, Prince Clueless!” Andy snapped his gaze over the railing, peering through the thick bushes to find a figure waving up at him.

A grin roused over his lips as he whispered, “At least I’m a prince, Beastie.”

The figure leapt over the bushes as the thin moonlight washed over her head, making her straggly, blonde hair seem like a broken halo. She tilted her chin up at him with a smirk.

“You look like you need an escape,” she said.

“You have _no_ idea!” Andy groaned.

She clucked her tongue, jerking a knapsack over her shoulder. “Then come on.”

“What?”

“I mean get your ass down here so we can go to the festival. You can just stay there for a couple of hours then slip back into the meeting like you weren’t even gone.” Andy gawked at the blonde, shaking his head before she held up the knapsack. “I got a disguise right here for you, so don’t bother whining.”

“Kristjana, this is my first meeting. If Elias—no, if _Ingvar_ knows I’m not there, I’d be lucky to even have a social life with a coat of arms.” Andy exclaimed, running a hand through his hair.

Kristjana blew a strand of hair from her face, turning on her heel. “I just said to come on if you really needed to.” She stomped along the winding path in the garden, leaving behind a trail of twigs and crumbled flowers as she called back, “And here I thought you wanted to spend some time with me when you have so little already.”

“I’m said was sorry last time. I didn’t mean to leave you in the boat for an hour, I had a lesson.”

“It was three hours, you dope!” Kristjana snarled, continuing her walk. “It’s such a shame though that you’ll miss out on festival. The bakery was giving away _krumkake_ , the bar was giving out free mugs of pear cider, oh, and you won’t believe what the autumn dance they—” She trailed off at the crash behind her. She whipped her head back to find that Andy was gone from the balcony while a plume of leaves erupted in the air.

She raced over towards the bush in front of the balcony, pulling back thick branches to find Andy lodged in the center of the bush. Twigs made minuscule cuts through his suit while a small crown of leaves littered his hair as he gave her a sheepish grin, groaning, “You had me at _krumkake_.”


	5. Chapter 4

The harmonious chords chirping from a violin fell in step with the clatter of heels and boots moving through the ball room. Ice, blue orbs spared a quick glance at the clock tower outside and bit back a sigh.

 _Ten forty-five._ Elias thought, nodding his head to the Duke of Ferdinand before he scampered off. _Were these meetings always this long?_

Elias moved off to the side, watching a small parade of pale dresses swirl by. He rolled his shoulders back, stifling a yawn that tickled his tongue, when a glass met his vision.

“Best to keep hydrated, you know that.” Elias scoffed, shooting Ingvar a quizzically look as the man shrugged. Elias grasped onto the glass and took a tentative sip before straightening his shoulders. “At least look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Of course,” Elias rolled his eyes, “because meetings are the best thing in the world.”

Ingvar smirked, taking a sip from his own glass and leaned back against the wall. He swirled the golden cider in his glass, watching as frost gently coated the outside when he asked, “More news about the Draugen?”

Elias sighed, taking another sip from his glass. “Unfortunately.”

Ingvar followed the king’s gaze that shifted across the gentries. “You know none of them are going to turn on you, correct?”

“I know that Ingvar,” Elias replied tiredly, “It’s a matter of knowing who will break down first.”

Ingvar hummed against the rim of his glass. He glanced at the other’s stormy eyes as he took in the crowd before him, breaking down their current state with predictions with a war hanging over their heads. A grin lifted at the corner of Ingvar’s lips. _Restless in and out of battle_ , he thought to his self just before he turned his attention forward.

Striding towards them was a man suited in crimson, ivory, and gold sashes and medals shuddering against his large chest. With dark auburn hair combed back and mustached trimmed, Ingvar had to bite down on his tongue to halt the grin slithering from the confines of his mind. He nodded over to the man, whispering, “Speaking of breaking down.”

Elias snapped out of his calculating, placing his glass onto a tray of a server before straightening his shoulders again. As the man came to a halt before him, Elias bowed his head.

“King Westerguard.” Elias said.

The man bowed his head at Elias, his deep voice rumbling, “Your majesty. Sir Ingvar.” Ingvar nodded back at the man, quietly straightening his self as well as the man turned back to Elias. “A lovely meeting you’ve coordinated, your majesty.”

Elias shook his head. “No, the credit should go to my uncle and the castle staff. I merely speak to the gentries here.”

“Modest as always,” King Westerguard chuckled, his medals rattling against his chest. Elias blinked away the gold blinding his gaze until the man settled down. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he narrowed his emerald gaze on Elias. “Actually, I came to ask you about something.”

“Is it about the Draugen?” Elias asked.

King Westerguard shook his head, waving his gloved hand at the question. “Goodness, no. Nothing about that mythical rubbish roaming around.”

Elias arched an eyebrow at him as Ingvar asked, “You think they’re a myth?”

“Aren’t they though,” the king replied, “No one has ever seen this _terrible_ clan, yet claim they’re the reason for their peoples’ illnesses, vandalism, and sorts.” The king’s eyes narrowed at the thought before shaking his head. “But that’s besides the point. Have you read my proposal letters your grace?”

Elias’s muscles struggled to hold back the flinch that rippled down his spine. His teeth tentatively began gnawing the inside of his cheek before jerking his self out of his daze and focusing on the king.

“Yes, I’ve read and considered your proposal, however…” Elias started.

The king nodded, “Yes?”

“I believe it would be too soon for me to step forward in that direction. Perhaps in time—”

Before Elias could finish, a thundering chortle erupted deep from within the king’s chest, piercing the melodic air of the ballroom. The gentries’ eyes gawked at the king as he wrapped a hand over his stomach. His laughs bounced off the painted walls of the room while he hiccupped to try to breathe once more. Elias blinked, casting a glance at Ingvar who merely shrugged as he eyed the king. The man’s bulbous shoulders trembled gently as his laughter died down. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, gasping for breath.

“Forgive me your grace,” he chuckled lightly. The man ran a hand over his dispatched hair, smoothing out the dark tresses, before looking back at Elias. “Of course it would be too soon for you. After all, a king deserves some freedom before being too bound to the rules of law and blood. Hell, when I was your age the very notion didn’t even cross my mind.” Elias nodded, offering a small smile as the man continued. “No, no. I was referring to the other letter.”

The smile on Elias’s lips faded, blinking heavily, before muttering a soft, “Oh, of course.”

King Westerguard turned his beam towards Ingvar. “It was actually your uncle that sparked the idea. A brilliant way it is to maximize both our economies and alliances. In time my boy, you might rule just as half as good as your uncle.”

“Nonsense,” Ingvar chastised, shaking his head. He gave Elias a smile. “A regent is never as good as one born to rule.” Elias felt a prickle of heat dust his cheeks, his heart skipping a beat as he swallowed thickly.

“Such modesty in your kingdom,” the king chuckled.

Elias gave them a weak grin, listening to the other king ramble about the lack of decency in his Southern Isles until his eyes fluttered over to the end of the ballroom. A young maid bumped into the back a gentry, knocking the tray from her hands. The glass crashed onto the floor while the woman bowed her apologizes to the gentry who stomped off, stomping his foot amongst the glass as he went. Elias’s eyes narrowed, his hands folding behind his back.

“Would you two excuse me?” he said, stepping away from the men as he ventured down to the end of the ballroom. He eyed the maid briskly trying to brush the splintered glass onto the tray, yelping at the sharp pricks at her fingers. She began to groan at the ever spreading cider before Elias kneeled down beside her. “Are you alright?”

The maid flinched, jerking her gaze up towards the man with a flushed face. “Oh, your majesty, I’m just fine. Please forgive my clumsiness and enjoy the rest of the meeting.” She muttered, turning back to clean up the glass.

Elias raised an eyebrow at her, flicking a finger towards the tray. The maid gasped as a trail of blue snowflakes began to brush the glass onto the tray. Her hands clasped onto the edges of her forest green dress while the glass piled up onto the tray. Elias eyed her carefully, watching her shoulders tremble with each trail of snow he conjured. His eyes then trailed over the rough texture of her hands, her bruised knuckles growing ashen, until his gaze landed onto her shoes. A thick set of mud was etched onto the soles of her boots, the reddened dirt crumbling onto the floor.

“You know,” Elias said, tilting his head to the side as the last fractal of glass landed onto the tray. His hands were clasped behind his back again. “It’s _very_ unusual for a maid to get her shoes so dirty when they’re always in the palace.”

The maid’s trembling slowly ceased as her hand trailed under her dress.

“And it’s _very_ unusual for a monster to act kind,” she said quietly. Suddenly, her fingers dug into her boot and turned on her heel. A blade slashed through the air towards Elias as she snarled, “ _Your majesty!_ ”

The gentries gasped as the woman’s blade made quick strokes towards Elias as he dodged back with every advance. He felt the blade’s heavy metal’s cuts whiz by his body until he a bolt of ice was flicked from his hand. The ice flew through the air, smashing into the maid’s hand holding the blade. A strangled cry fell from her lips as the blade clattered onto the ground, her free hand cradling the hand with an icicle lodged in the center. Crimson spilled from her hand and dotted the floor until Elias dashed forward and snatched her arm. Twisting it behind her back, the woman cried out again as she heard her bones grind against each other mercilessly.

Elias brought his mouth to her ear, hissing, “Who sent you?”

Through the bolts of pain pooling within her bleeding hand and grinding against her twisted arm, she chuckled weakly, “You think I’m the only one.”

The other gentries backed up towards the windows of the ballroom only to shriek as the glass shattered. Glass rained down upon them while black and red veiled bodies flew through the windows. A growl rumbled in the back of Elias’s throat, twisting the woman’s arm until he felt the bone underneath crumble. He dropped the woman from his grasp, jerking his head towards her feet and free arm where ice crept upon it and moved to the side.

He glanced back at the doors of the ballroom and at the intruders closing in on the gentries. _The guards won’t make it._ He cursed, before whisking his hand at a flurry of blades approaching the gentries. A thick wall of ice slammed into the intruders. Their veiled bodies crumbled under the weight of the ice while another set turned towards him.

Elias’s eyes narrowed as another pillar of icicles crept towards the intruders. Suddenly, Elias hissed as a trail of crimson trickled down his brow. He barely caught a glance of his attacker before a flurry of daggers flew his way. He jumped back, casting a thin wall of ice to shield him from the onslaught before it crumbled. His attacker ran towards him, knocking down the icicles thrown his way with his blades. As he was about leap onto Elias a heart wrenching cry flooded the air. Elias watched as a series of giant icicles pierced through the man’s legs, throwing him to the ground before another icicle slashed by his neck. The man barely writhed in the puddle of blood pooling around him before he stilled, the blade tumbling from his grasp as an ivory boot stomped on it.

Elias didn’t even blink, panting as he eyed Ingvar kicking the side of his attacker. Elias ran a hand through his hair. “Over did it, don’t you think?”

Ingvar rolled his head to the side with a shrug. “It shouldn’t have come at you.” He replied hollowly.

Elias shook his head as the guards flooded in through the doors. He turned on his heel towards the gentries, calling out, “Is everyone alright?”

The gentries shuddered and cried against the other side of the wall, some hurling their bile into corners at the blood and powdered bone creeping across the floor. Lady Lenore brought her head up to look at their king, then all the color fled from her face as she turned and spilled her champagne onto a series of dresses and her husband’s suit. Elias blinked until his fingers brushed against the warm reside sticking to his cheeks. He glanced over at Ingvar, a sheen of crimson seeping through his suit while the end of his pale hair was crossed between white and red.

 _Probably not the best presentation of myself,_ Elias thought absentmindedly.

Ingvar snapped his fingers, the ice encasing the maid melting as he gestured to the guards. “Take her into custody for question.” The ice bleeding from his voice made the temperature in the room drop while the woman hissed, choking on silent cries as the men took her away.

Elias scanned the room, noting the gentries present and possibly hurt when his heart clung to his chest. He gaze jerked from side to side, prying through the crowd of trembling gentries while his heartbeat thundered in his ears.

He turned on his heel, clasping his blood stained hand on Ingvar’s shoulder, shaking it as he stuttered hoarsely, “Ingvar, _where’s Andy?_ ”

Ingvar’s brows furrowed until a raspy chuckle hiccupped from the maid’s lips. Ingvar flicked his wrist for the guards to stop as he strode over to her.

“What are you laughing about?” he snarled.

She trembled at the stormy silver eyes burning into her, her laughs crossing between hysterical and painful. “I-it’s so cute,” she murmured with a broken smirk. “How you monsters think it’s over.”

Elias’s brows rose until a raw, bitter odor singed the room. He sniffed at the air sharply as a bile of copper roused upon his tongue.

 _Sulfur._ His head jerked up as he exclaimed, “Everybody down!”

The gentries, startled, blinked at him quizzically at their king until a thundering clap roared through the night. The darkness was instantly devoured by a sinuous, cognac flame that slithered its heated tongues through the air, throwing its ashen cloud of smoke through the shattered windows of the ballroom. The gentries threw themselves to the floor, throwing their hands over their heads as they felt the vibrations rock their bodies. As the thunder died down, faint cries carried over on the thick smoke flitting through the ballroom.

Elias peered through the black smoke, blinking back the smoldering burn in his eyes, while catching the ash settling over a thin blanket over the gentries. He staggered to his feet, coughing roughly into his blackened sleeve as he turned around and felt his heart drop. A raging fire prodded at the sky, casting its thick smoke over the harvest moon while dancing over the village. Elias felt a snowflake gingerly kiss his cheek, barely even noticing the snow beginning to fall within the ballroom. His heart soon clawed at his chest at the one thought screaming through his mind:

_Andy._


	6. Chapter 5

Kristjana rolled her eyes as she leaned back against Svea’s fluffed fur. She glanced down at the reindeer, mirroring the comical glitter in her eyes as they looked back to the pole in the center of the square. Children had gathered around for Arendelle’s traditional season bearing, where each child would be given a ribbon and had to race around the pole while decorating it in the colors of the new season. As giggles hiccupped over the excited skips of the children racing around the wooden pole, Kristjana snorted loudly along with some other older onlookers. Streaks of dark orange, green, blue, and white spun round the pole, bulging over the man tangled in the ties of ribbons against the wood.

“Come on guys, can I go now?” He whined, squirming under the tight bindings of the ribbons.

A child with tangled black hair scooted to a stop, looking up at him with a smirk.

“Nope.” She said, waving her blue ribbon proudly. “We still got twenty runs to go before we run out of ribbon.” 

“That’s what you said twenty runs ago!” Andy whined to deaf ears that clattered about him in a swirl of silky ribbon.

Kristjana burst out into a fit of laughs as Andy let his head fall back against the pole with a groan. Svea snorted, nudging her forward the crook of one of her small antlers. Kristjana felt heat bloom across her cheeks, eyeing the reindeer with a sheepish glance.

“I know, Svea, I know.” She said. “I’ll get to it…eventually.” Svea’s eyes narrowed, jerking her head into Kristjana’s side. The girl stumbled forward and brought up her hands in defeat. “Alright, I’m going, yeesh!”

Kristjana weaved through the throng of bustling villagers at the festival. She soon stumbled out of the onlookers admiring the pole—all the while laughing at the man being mummified underneath—and into the edge of the market square. Sniffing the air sharply, she clomped over to the bakery with opened doors. Waves of chocolate and cinnamon, with the tang of cool sweat from the villagers overflowing the streets, bombarded Kristjana’s nose as she entered the building.

She stepped aside from a mother and her son, cradling a freshly baked, powdered kiflin, and strolled up to the stand. The baker dusted off the powdered sugar from her hands as she looked up at the girl shuffling from foot to foot.

“Oh, Kristjana,” she said, “It’s been ages! How are you enjoying the festival?”

“It’s great Agda,” Kristjana replied with a smile. “Where’s that little devil at?”

Agda snorted, leaning her elbows on the countertop.

“Oh, off hanging about with that father of his, leaving me all alone to man the fort.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

Agda waved it off. “No, I offered to stay. Someone’s got to make the dough around here, don’t they?” Kristjana chuckled until Agda clucked her tongue. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t just come here to chat. What can I get for you?”

“Two of your best krumkakes,” Kristjana started, then froze, feeling the heat from Svea’s nudging prickle a blush on her cheeks once more. She scratched the back of her neck while biting her cheek. “Um…” Agda tilted her head as Kristjana shoved her hand in her pocket and pulled out a small sack. “C-could you…put this in one of them with extra cream please?”

Agda arched an eyebrow at her before taking the sack in hand. She pulled at the string, peering into the dark fabric only to have her jaw fall at what was inside. At the sight of a blushing Kristjana, Agda’s smirk squirmed across her ruddy lips as she made her way to the back of the bakery. Kristjana tapped her boot while chewing her lip until Agda came back out with two wrapped krumkakes, one with more cream spilling from its edges, and handed them to Kristjana. Balancing the two krumkakes in one hand, Kristjana moved to dig into her other pocket before Agda shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, the flour dusting her forward making her wriggling eyebrows more mischievous, “it’s on the house.”

Kristjana swore that her blush seared into her flesh as she thanked the woman and stumbled back outside. She swallowed thickly, the krumkakes trembling in her hands as she weaved through the crowd again. She glanced at the pastry with more cream under the dull golden flames.

 _You can do this Kris,_ she thought with a firm nod. _You can do this._

Suddenly, an eruption of cheers thundered from the wooden pole at the center of the village. Kristjana stepped through the crowd, digging her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from laughing so hard that the pastries would fall from her hand. Andy pouted beneath piles of ribbons as the children racing around him cheered at the completion of the seasonal pole. They quickly dispersed at the sound of a horn trumpeting in the distance. They nearly tripped over each other, squealing towards the parade beginning to march down the road as Andy huffed beneath his prison of ribbons.

Kristjana shook her head, watching him carefully untie his self from the pole without undoing the pattern the children had set. As he yanked his last leg from the ribbon, he stumbled over towards the blonde woman, hiding her smile behind a krumkake.

“Children are evil,” Andy mumbled, snatching his cap from Svea’s antlers and tucked it over his head.

“Hey,” Kristjana, handing him the krumkake with extra cream. “You made and lost a bet fair and square.”

Andy pouted, gingerly taking the krumkake despite the instant twinkle in his eyes. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his pants leg, glancing down to find the girl with tangled black hair smiling up at him. She hugged his leg tentatively before racing off to the huddle of other children down the street. Kristjana smirked at him, nudging him in the ribs as he blushed.

“What was that about kids being evil?”

“Shut up.” Andy mumbled, nudging his arm back against Kristjana’s.

Svea glanced between Kristjana and Andy, her coal, black eyes rolling as she let out a snort. Kristjana sighed, turning towards the reindeer with a tied piece of rope in hand from the stable they were near. She pulled the cord around Svea’s neck loosely while the reindeer dragged her tongue across her face. Kristjana laughed, rubbing her fingers between Svea’s ears as she whispered, “Wish me luck.”

Svea clomped her hooves along the ground as Kristjana walked back to Andy.

“You know, there’s a great spot I know that’s much quieter than here,” Kristjana said.

Andy arched an eyebrow while hesitantly following the girl. “You mean you’re gonna leave Svea alone here?”

Kristjana casted a glance over her shoulder at the reindeer who merely snorted at her again with a yank of her head forward. “Have you met her? She’ll be fine.”

Andy sighed as he weaved through the crowd with Kristjana, cradling his krumkake close to him. After bumping into other villagers and escaping the crowded square, the two wandered out into a small clearing just outside the village. Grass fell under their feet as they hiked up the hill, careful of stumbling over stones and dips in the earth. After stumbling over another rock, Andy blew at a strand of hair that flopped over his eye.

“Where are we going Kris?” he asked, squinting into the dark blue veil around them.

Kristjana rolled her eyes, snorting, “What? His royal clueless can’t handle a little hike?”

“No, I just don’t want my beastie to get tuckered out,” Andy replied.

Kristjana bit back a sharp retort and squinted ahead until she let a relieved smile cross her lips. She turned to Andy and swayed her hand out before her. As Andy stumbled after her, his jaw dropped at the clearing in front of him. A smooth patch of grass swayed under the wind’s fingers, pressing up against a large tree trunk besides the wall of bedrock behind it.

Kristjana grasped onto Andy’s hand, leading him along the ribbons of frail moonlight that showered the hillside. She let out a sigh as she plopped down onto the grass and patted the earth next to her. Andy shook his self out of his daze, sinking down onto the ground as they scuffled around the tree. The boy’s eyes widened, drinking in the minuscule village and castle underneath the sea of dark blue shadows.

“Great view, huh?” Kristjana asked, sinking her teeth into her krumkake with a purr.

“Great?” Andy laughed. “It’s incredible! How did you—”

Kristjana shrugged, licking the cream around her lips. “Found it while coming back from an ice harvest last winter,” she grinned sheepishly, “I thought you’d like a change of scenery asides from your ivory tower and books.”

Andy’s heart swelled, leaning his head back against the tree trunk.

“This beats a book any day.” Andy sighed.

Kristjana’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at the silver ribbons of light casting shadows over the boy’s cheeks, glossing over his curved lips with a silver gleam to them. She silently thanked the darkness for covering her red cheeks while she took another chomp of her krumkake. Andy turned towards her, chuckling at the burst of cream that devoured her lips after viciously biting into the pastry.

“You got a little…” he started, leaning towards her.

As she turned Andy froze, gulping absentmindedly at the golden brown eyes shimmering in the darkness. His thumb gently brushed the stray bead of cream from the corner of her lip, lingering upon the edges of her plump mouth. He leaned down towards her while Kristjana slowly pressed closer to him, their breath tickling each other’s faces. Just before their lips could brush against each other, a burning pain pierced through both their foreheads. The two jumped, groaning as they rubbed their heads from the impact of their head butt.

Andy suddenly burst out in laughter, cradling his side with his free hand until his laughter infested Kristjana as well.

“One day, we’ll get that right, Bjorgman,” he panted through his laughter.

“If one day, you mean in fifty years!” Kristjana snorted, brushing her bangs from her hair.

Andy’s laughter suddenly died down, hiccuping slightly in his throat as his gaze locked onto Kristjana’s left hand. Hugging her finger was a band of silver, glittering in dark blue and emerald.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“Oh, this?” Kristjana arched a brow, bringing her hand down to her view. She turned the ring round upon her finger. “I found it in the market place earlier today. I’m not much of a jewelry person, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Andy’s eye twitched, digging his teeth down into his tongue. _That’s because I should’ve been the one to give it to you!_ He thought bitterly.

“Though it’s good that I got when I did,” Kristjana continued. “Some idiot madman jumped the jeweler who sold it to me when he didn’t get it first. I mean really, it’s just a ring.”

Andy’s cheeks blanched as he forced out a laugh. He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling nervously, “Yeah, _just a ring_.”

Kristjana nodded, leaning her head back against the trunk. “Too bad you don’t have one to match mine.”

Andy hummed in response, puffing his cheeks out bitterly as he let his teeth slowly sink into his krumkake. A fluff of sugary cream flooded his mouth. He sighed contently, chewing on the pastry slowly until his teeth clacked against something hard. His lips furrowed into a frown as his tongue curled around a cold object in his mouth while swallowing the rest of bite.

He spat out the object in his hand and felt his heart freeze in his chest. A silver band with two single gems of emerald and sapphire glittered in his palm. His jaw fell as he gazed over at Kristjana, who was blushing darker than the night as she shuffled closer to him.

“I,” she started, swallowing thickly, “I could show you a lot more than just a hill. I could— _would_ take you anywhere outside of that damned castle. I…Andy I...” her tongue glued her words to the roof of her mouth as she groaned in frustration. “Andy, what I’m trying to say is—”

She fell silent as he gently pressed his lips against hers; though it was just a faint touch, a small spark lit between the two as Andy pulled away. A beam broke across his mouth from ear to ear, his heart thundering against his chest while brushing away her hair from her face.

“Kristjana,” he said, his tongue twitching to shout ‘yes’ until his nose wrinkled. A raw, coppery odor crept through the air, gnawing at his nostrils as he shook his head. “Smoke?”

Kristjana arched an eyebrow at him, leaning away from him. “Okay, not the answer I was hoping for, but…”

“No!” Andy said, wincing at the flash of hurt crinkling across Kristjana’s features before correcting his self. “I mean yes! I mean—don’t you smell smoke?”

Kristjana’s frown faded as she sniffed the air. Her eyes widened, coughing slightly at the thick scent of burning copper. She rose to her feet as she squinted down at the village. She watched a thin line of gray smoke rise from the center of the market square, quickly growing thicker and larger as the faint chorus of cheers morphed into earsplitting wails.

Andy stood next to Kristjana as the smoke unfolded into the air, their hearts finally thawing at the dark cognac, red flames that began tearing into the night when Kristjana gasped, “Svea.”

Kristjana raced down the hill with Andy at her heels, the krumkake long forgotten as it tumbled onto the grass. The boy shoved his ring into his pocket, tripping over roots and stones as they stumbled back into the edge of the village. Golden flames leaped from building to building along the square, snapping their jaws at the stones and wood that littered their walls. Villagers blindly ran from the flames, stampeding over falling lampposts and banners that littered the streets. As the villagers were about to reach the edge of the village, the flames twisted from its course—slamming its self along the border of the village.

A chorus of screams shattered through the air as the flames flailed out and trailed onto a mass of villagers. The people cried out at the searing pain gnawing at their flesh, collapsing onto the ground in agony while the fire claimed them. The other villagers raced in all directions only for the fire to follow them with the same result, caging their corroded senses within the square.

Kristjana finally snapped herself out of her daze at a faint wail in the roaring chaos. She pushed through the crowd as she neared the stables with Andy right at her heels. She burst through the doors to find Svea jerking wildly at her bindings, foaming at the mouth as she desperately dug her teeth through the rope.

“Easy girl, easy!” Kristjana said, throwing her hands around the reindeer’s damp fur. She rubbed her fingers behind the large flap of her ear, carefully untying the rope from her neck. She pulled Svea’s muzzle up to her. “You’re alright. You’re going to be alright.”

“Kris!” Andy yelled from the entrance of the stables.

Kristjana glanced up at the dark flames skittering over the roof of the stables, patting Svea’s side as they raced out of the crumbling building. As soon as they made it out, the stable collapsed in a fit of fiery flames, cackling an earsplitting laugh amongst the juggling of screams.

“You okay?” Andy asked, holding onto Kristjana as she held onto Svea.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright,” she said.

They flinched as another crumbled down from the fire, a thick blanket of smoke littering cloaking the night from over the village.

 _This can’t be real,_ Andy thought, squinting under the blazing light that barricaded them to the village until he looked up at the sky. Through the flurries of ash that whisked around them, the crescent smile of the moon had vanished along with the sky itself. A shiver managed to tear down the boy’s spine beneath the thick layer of sweat upon his body; for even the night had abandoned the hell that was slowly caving in on them.

“Mama! Mama!” a voice cried amongst the screams.

The two squinted through the flail of shadows and light as two figures wandered by them. Kristjana coughed into her arm, squinting up at the two figures before calling out, “Greger!”

The larger man with a child pressed firmly against his shoulder managed to move towards them.

“Kristjana, thank heavens you’re alright,” he panted through a fit of coughs. Grimy films of black ash covered his ruddy cheeks while a large hand kept a boy’s head against his shoulder.

Kristjana heard the boy cry out again, “Mama!”

“Where’s,” Kristjana coughed, “Agda?”

Greger shook his head, brow furrowed into a deep flush of worry.

“I don’t know.” He breathed. “I haven’t been able to reach the bakery to see if she made it out.”

Andy turned his head towards the market square where a mountain of fire was climbing up to crash down upon another building. The broken screams made his heart flinch as he turned towards Greger.

“I’ll find her,” he said.

Kristjana jerked her head towards him, running her hand over Svea’s trembling ears. “Are you stupid?”

“Have you met me?” He snapped back. “I’ll be in and out as fast as I can. Just take Svea and as many people as you can to the bridge.” Kristjana opened her mouth again, until he cut her off. “It’s still a part of the village so the fire shouldn’t cut them off.”

Before she could say anymore, Andy was already backing up towards the mob of villagers fleeing the market square. Her heart froze, reaching out her arm towards him.

“Andy!”

“Just go!”

Kristjana bit down on her lip, the flesh turning pale, as she jerked her head towards the mass of villagers. “To the bridge!” she screamed over the raging screams.

Greger and his son fell into the mass of villagers racing towards the bridge, while Kristjana blinked back the tears straining against the corners of her eyes. She leaned against Svea, forcing one foot in front of the other as she prayed, _Don’t die Andy. Don’t die!_

Andy squirmed his way towards the market square through the throng of villagers, a fish swimming upstream in current heading towards the ocean. He stumbled amongst the uprooted cobble stones and bodies pressing against him until he made it to the almost abandoned square. He hissed at the blinding glare of dark gold waving down on him as he squinted his way through the ash. Andy’s feet kicked through piles of torn ribbon, glass, and wood until he tripped over a large mass.

He glanced down at the ground and felt all the blood in his body run cold. A body of a villager lay upon the ground, the side of his face charred with bubbles of thick black and red scars while the torn tatters of his clothes clung onto his seared flesh. His eye, the one not melted into his exposed skull, stared blankly into the distance; where the onslaught of fire devouring the village was the only light twinkling in the dull, black pupil.

Warmth spilled down the corners of Andy’s eyes as he buried the crook of his elbow into his mouth to stifle the scream itching to tear out of his throat. He turned away from the body and staggered forward. He breathed heavily through the fabric in his arm, hiccupping on whiffs of smoke, as he head spun uneasily.

 _Not yet,_ he breathed, his tears streaming down faster upon his cheeks with the more bodies he turned away from. _Not yet._

He let out a silent sigh of relief as he caught the bakery’s sign torn from its hinges and scattered just inches away from a building. Andy raced toward doors of the bakery, what was left of them anyway, and slipped into the darkness of the building. The flames battered at the sides of the brick walls like a lantern jerking wildly in the darkness as Andy squinted.

“Mrs. Agda!” he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. The slap of smoke that responded to his call made the boy gag harshly, wheezing as his eyes burned from the ash infesting his gaze. He snatched his grimy cap from his head, pressing it against his mouth, and shifted through the carpet of shattered glass towards the back of the bakery.

He coughed into the cap, blinking heavily at the ash stinging his eyes until he reached the back of the shop. Agda writhed, crying with each struggle as she tugged at her leg where a pillar had fallen on her. Andy kicked through the flour and frosting that littered the floor and kneeled down to the pillar.

Agda gazed up at him with glassy eyes as he heaved, barely feeling the pillar shift. Andy gritted his teeth, groaning heavily as his arms trembled under the weight of the pillar until it lifted, just inches off of Agda’s leg.

Agda quickly crawled from under the pillar as he dropped it. He breathed heavily, glancing down at her as he stretched out his hand.

“Are you okay?” he wheezed. She nodded weakly, grasping onto his hand as she rose up and leaned against him. Small whimpers pressed against his shoulder while Andy led her towards the entrance of the bakery. “Don’t worry.” He said as her whimpers rose into sobs. “You’re gonna be—”

Before he could finish, a roar thundered outside. The flames shook the walls of the bakery with a jerking blow, the glass shattering from the fire’s gust. Andy and Agda were thrown to the floor, Andy shielding their head with his arm as Agda’s head thumped against the floor with a loud crack. Andy’s eyes widened at the bruise stretching across the corner of Agda’s head.

“Agda? Agda, stay with me!” Andy said, shaking the woman’s shoulder. She groaned in response, her limbs falling limp against the floor as another shock rumbled down the walls of the bakery. Andy bit down onto his tongue, quickly pressing his cap against the woman’s mouth and nose.

The smoke from outside slithered into the bakery, slowly turning from black to a smoldering red that pulsed to life with each thunder of the fire. Andy wheezed heavily, his lungs burning as the smoke thickened. He pressed the crook of his elbow against his mouth, coughing heavily into it. The boy suddenly felt every pore of his body buzz with the heat beating against him mercilessly. His teeth dug into the crook of his elbow, wrapping his arm tighter around Agda as the pillars over head began to groan weakly. Andy grew dizzy as his tears only added to the heat pulsing around him and silently sobbed.

 _I’m sorry Kristjana,_ he thought as the pillars cracked harshly. _I’m sorry Georg._ A pillar snapped, landing inches from Andy’s body as he pressed Agda closer to him. _I’m sorry Mrs. Agda. I’m sorry…_

The pillars let out a melody of splintering cracks, ready to plummet onto the two when a lone silhouette broke into the red haze of the bakery. Andy squinted up at the figure stomping towards them until it soon towered over them. The shadow squatted down to them and Andy choked on his tears. A body shrouded in black kneeled by them, its body leading up to a face crafted of ashen bone. The sharp white of the figure’s cheek bones tilted its head at Andy while beady crystal, blue eyes stared down at him.

Andy’s breath hitched at the back of his throat, a final, heart wrenching scream ready to flee from his throat when the figure pressed a finger to its broken jaw and hinged teeth. With some, invisible wave of its hand, Andy’s scream crawled back into the confines of his thundering heartbeat. The figure’s black jaw moved, like a mask beneath the skull, whispering silently as it gently pressed its palm over Andy’s eyes. Andy suddenly went still, his muscles swelling beneath his skin, and slowly felt slumber lull him into its grasp.

He heard the figure’s hushed whispering just as the pillars came crumbling down with the fire thundering into the sky, yet before the immense, agonizing pain could touch him, Andy fell into darkness as a lone, icy snowflake kissed his cheek.

_Elias._

_“Rest now my angel from the dawns above and wait for the sun to ring its bell. For with your drowsy eyes and my lullaby, I’ll weave you a dream of our kingdom to be…_

_Soon in the waves of the fire and snow, I’ll whisk you to the castle shining brighter than stars. Where no living creature can resist your smile, and the world is your oasis of rule…_

_My angel forgive me for the loyalty I whip upon you, for I can’t resist falling into the shadow of your love. Where you, my dear prince, are the lone ruler of my heart and I, the lone mirror of your gaze…_

_…and I’ll never let you see any more…”_

“Andy! Andy! Andy!”

Andy groaned, writhing in darkness as he felt his body shake. As the voice pulled him from slumber, his eyes shot open. He bolted forward in a cold sweat until he felt the hand shaking him rub his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Andy,” the voice whispered, their fingers pressing into his trembling shoulder tenderly. “You’re safe.”

Andy blinked, the darkness he was in slowly fading back into reality’s mold. An arctic chill whisked through the air as he stared into the sky, where the crescent moon shimmered once more. He gulped heavily, wincing at the lanterns shifting around him until he caught a flicker of golden brown eyes looking at him. His hand shakily grasped onto the one upon his shoulder.

“K-Kristjana?” He asked.

Kristjana nodded, patting his hand over hers. He breathed heavily, his lungs greedily drinking in the cool air. His gaze shifted amongst the village; mere simmers of smoke dwindled amongst the remains of burnt houses and buildings while villagers nervously whispered to one another while huddling together beneath blankets.

Andy’s brows furrowed as he moved to stand up when an ache tore through his muscles. He hissed, falling back into Kristjana’s arms.

“Hey, take it easy,” she said, pulling the blanket back around him.

He swallowed heavily, his tongue darting over his cracking lips as his memory slowly caught up with him.

“I-is Agda…” he stuttered.

“She’s fine,” Kristjana said with a small smile, “thanks to you.”

A weak smile twitched at the corners of Andy’s lips until his memory began to really clear itself. He buried his head into his hands, the taste of copper and burning flesh scalded to his tongue.

“How many?” He asked, his voice wavering on the watery wall he barely mustered.

Kristjana frowned, turning away from him as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Too many, Andy,” she sighed, “too many.”

Before a sob could gurgle in Andy’s mouth, Kristjana’s eyes narrowed. Her hand balled up into a fist as she slammed it against Andy’s arm. He yelped at the pain seeping through his arm while Kristjana’s cheeks fumed red. She yanked his blackened collar towards her.

“And you would’ve been one of them if you…” The anger in her voice trailed off, blinking heavily as she turned away from his widened eyes. “If you…” She raised her hand up again, ready for another punch before letting her hand fall into her lap. She pressed her head against his shoulder, whimpering, “ _Please_ , don’t play hero again.”

Andy’s brows furrowed, wrapping his arms around the girl while a slippery, rough surface lapped over his cheek. Andy chuckled at the reindeer staring down at him as Svea nuzzled his head with her muzzle. The boy patted Svea’s head.

“At least somebody’s not trying to kill me,” he chuckled weakly.

He peered over Svea to catch small flurries of snowflakes dust over the village while ice engulfed the tatters of burnt buildings and streets. Andy’s stomach began to twist into a knot, squirming against the ground as he turned towards Kristjana.

“Did he—”

“Yes. He didn’t want to make a scene of you being out here. No one recognized you with all the ash.” Kristjana replied, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“How—”

“Livid if it weren’t for you being unconscious.”

“On a scale of—”

“Infinity.”

Andy winced. “Oh.”

Kristjana lifted her head, whipping her hair from her eyes. She rubbed the back of her hand across her puffy eyes. Her lips quivered into a weak smile.

“I don’t suppose it’s a part of royal protocol to ditch a royal meeting and throw yourself into the middle of a fire.”

Andy chuckled, “Really? I thought it was right under Chapter five, section 304.”

The tense laughter was silenced as the guards stomped through, shifting through villagers as they wheeled blanketed wagons through the streets. Andy’s blood ran cold again, watching a pale arm, the bone burnt black within the scarred tissue, stumble from underneath the coverings. A series of silent sobs wracked through the crowd as he hung his head.

He closed his eyes, cursing at the lifeless, seared eyes that flickered behind his eyelids. Andy’s face grew ashen as he gently pushed Kristjana back. She arched a brow until he turned to the side and let bile wrench itself from his throat. The villagers shot daggers at the boy as his coughs and groans filled the air. His shoulders shuddered with each cough as his saliva and vomit spilled onto the corner. Her fingers carefully rubbed his back with each cough until he heaved in the icy air again.

As Andy trembled, wiping the back of his sleeve against his mouth shakily, a scream pierced the air. The villagers turned their heads towards the source of the screaming. A young woman, her singed dress clinging to her frame, pointed at the market square where the seasonal pole once stood. The villagers huddled around the square despite the soldiers and guards instruction and gasped.

Andy leaned against Kristjana, shooting her a pleading look before she begrudgingly helped him up. He staggered to his feet, leaning one side against Svea and the other against Kristjana as they ventured over to the square. Carefully weaving through the crowd, the three of them got to the edge of the square when Andy and Kristjana’s face grew pale while Svea shuddered, reeling back with a wail. Seared into the ground were the ashes of bony creature, wings detached from its body as it bowed its head to the east. Yet, what made the villagers shudder wasn’t the creature, but what the pattern eerily spelled out.

The black dust swirled in endless patterns with the same creature scorned into the stony ground, reading: _Devour the flame. Devour the spark. We are the nightmare. We are the dark._

Andy felt his knees buckle, snippets of the meeting flooding his mind as he wheezed. There was only one kingdom with that motto. One kingdom buried centuries ago. One kingdom, whose phantom blindly reaped upon their allies. One kingdom that had made the boy hide under his covers for a month after reading about their myths. One kingdom that had wormed its way upon their shores.

One kingdom that was no longer a legend.

As Andy vomited on the edge of the market square, no one dared to glare at him. For they were growing sick at the realization hitting them; it wasn’t a kingdom that was no longer a myth.

_It was the Draugen._


	7. Chapter 6

As Andy’s muscles clenched around his bones, he couldn’t tell what burned more. The fire that pillaged the heart of the village, or the icy glare whose sole purpose was to freeze him to the chair he was in.

 _Probably both,_ he thought bitterly, wrapping the thick blanket around him tighter as he curled up onto the chair.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Ingvar snapped. The air in the room wavered from warm to cold constantly. The man was leaning back against the large desk in the library’s study where the young prince had retreated to the moment he set foot in the castle.

After rubbing his skin raw in the bathes, possibly staining the sides of the tub black from the soot and ash that layered his body, Andy squirmed his way out of Georg’s grasp from his bedroom and into his corner in the library. Despite the urging of the nurses to have the prince rest after the fire, Andy couldn’t find it in his self to sleep. And Ingvar happily took advantage of that.

Andy bit back a groan, wrapping his arms around his legs as the man stared him down. His eyes darted everywhere around the walls stacked with leather bound books until he felt an icy chill jerked his chin forward. Ingvar, without raising a finger, had the boy turning towards him with his magic, hissing, “ _Look at me when I’m talking to you._ ”

Andy’s teeth sank into his tongue, his brows narrowing at the older man.

“I’m sorry. What else do you want me to say?” He said, fighting back the growl in his voice.

Ingvar shook his head, his fingers digging into the table behind him. He breathed in deeply, carefully choosing his words as he glowered at the boy.

“Do you have any idea,” he said slowly, folding his hands together. “How frantic your brother was? Not to mention how the gentries absorbed the fact that their prince disappeared in a raid—”

“I would’ve been worse off there.” Andy snapped.

“—only to discover hours later, that he willingly abandoned his _first_ meeting—”

“No one knew I was gone.”

Ingvar suddenly towered over the boy, leaning close to him as his palm pressed down onto the arms of his chair. Ingvar’s voice dropped into a harsh whisper.

“—to go off to a festival and put his self in more of harm’s way by racing in to play _‘hero.’_ ”

The iciness that pierced Ingvar’s words sent a shudder running down Andy’s spine. Ingvar leaned back against the table, his hair pooling down onto the dark wood, and rubbed his hands over his face. He chuckled dryly, “It took so much to persuade your brother not to dive into that fire. Yet, he did anyway.”

Andy’s heart skipped a beat, his glower softening slightly as he stared up at his uncle.

“Y-you mean he went into the fire to save me?” His voice cracked slightly, wavering with a hint of hopefulness.

Ingvar rolled his eyes at the boy. “The heart of the fire was in the market square. You oh so happened to be there.”

Andy’s heart instantly sank at that, his fingers playing with the ends of his blanket. “Oh.”

Ingvar heaved in a deep breath, flexing his fingers out from his fists as ice crackled upon his flesh. His tongue twisted into knots as he stared at Andy, his heart unable to fathom keeping _his own_ temper at bay. Suddenly, the door to the library slid open where a quiet set of footsteps tapped down the hall. The two raised their gaze over to the end of the twisting aisle to find the young king leaning against one of the bookshelves. Andy’s heart began digging deeper into his chest as he darted his eyes towards the fireplace.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Ingvar said with a frown etched deep into the corners of his lips, flicking his gaze up and down the king’s frame. “You know you have another meeting tomorrow—”

“ _Ingvar_.” Elias casted his eyes towards the man. His irises flickered from a pale shade of ice to a dark film of blue darkness, making Ingvar flinch as he swayed his head towards the door.

Andy chewed on his bottom lip as his blood boiled. He glanced back and forth between the two men, the flicker of light in their eyes veiling an entire conversation in just a few short gestures and nods. Andy’s arm tightened around his legs, jerking his gaze towards the simmering fire in the hearth.

“I’ll see you momentarily,” Ingvar whispered quietly in Elias’s ear, brushing his hand down Elias’s arm as he walked out of the library.

Elias closed his eyes, sighing heavily at the man’s quiet footsteps. The king finally opened his eyes again to stare at a tangled mop of golden hair turned away from him. A frown wrinkled Elias’s lips. Andy slowly turned his head towards Elias, his eyes downcast as he focused on counting the number of tendrils on the rug. Elias moved away from the bookshelf towards Andy, yet froze. He took a step back from him, turned away from the flash of hurt that flinched through Andy’s shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” Elias asked softly.

“Fine,” Andy murmured, tangling his fingers together.

The silence gnawing between them caused Andy’s teeth to grind against each other. Elias’s lips thinned into a line, his mouth opening and closing again as his tongue tried to force some other words out. The two stared at each other for a moment; their eyes searching the each other’s orbs to communicate some secret between them—but nothing came. Nothing ever came.

Andy noted the shadows flickering across the elder man’s face, caressing his firm jaw and cheek bones as if he were made from the smoothest of stones. Andy’s tongue dabbed at his chapped lips and his skin prickled the longer he stared into the other’s eyes. The icy irises lied still in their own world, churning mystery upon mystery beneath the thick surface, but merely reflected his gaze.

The phantom of the boy he could barely catch in the halls of his childhood memories vanished in an instant as Andy’s eyes wandered down the faint dusting of stubble upon his chin, the lone lock of ivory that landed just above his brows, and the faint line of the ragged scar that stretched from his eye to his jaw like a broken smile that could break through his stony exterior.

A flash of scalded bodies crossed Andy’s mind, causing a shudder to run down his spine; the last this man had seen his childhood was when it was waving goodbye to him in a blur of color as he was dragged off to an alien country. Andy shook his head. How did he manage to come back—mind unscathed—when Andy could barely hold back his meal when he saw the faintest hint of blood?

 _Why can’t I read you?_ Andy cursed, pondering over when their prickly silences became so routine and fragile. His fingers crushed the fabric of the blanket in his hands with a bowed head. Elias bit his bottom lip, reaching out his hand towards Andy and instead flinched away as he looked back up at him.

“You,” Elias started uneasily then sighed. “You should get to bed. It’s not good to strain yourself when your body’s not used to such exertion.” The man turned on his heel towards the door, ready to weave through the halls when Andy rose from his chair.

Andy’s hand grasped onto the silken dress shirt that hung loosely on Elias’s shoulders, swallowing thickly as he tried to remember how to breathe. Elias arched an eyebrow at him until Andy cleared his throat.

“Is that all?” Andy asked.

Elias shrugged slightly. “There isn’t much left to say after Ingvar talk with you.”

Andy winced, his fingers curling themselves tighter into Elias’s shirt. He forced out a light chuckle, grinning sheepishly. “Oh, yeah. That _little_ talk.” Elias’s lips squirmed, searching for words until Andy spoke again. “So that meeting tomorrow…pretty important, huh?”

“All meetings are important.” Elias replied softly, jerking away from Andy’s grasp. “This one particularly even more crucial than it was supposed to be now.”

Andy slowly unwound his fingers from their curl and scratched the back of his head. He fought the urge to squirm at his spot under the other’s gaze.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Elias rolled his neck back, rubbing his fingers along the bridge of his nose. “Try to convince the gentries the benefits of waiting before jumping into making such large deals with one another when they have so little.” He snorted bitterly. “Not that that’s their main priority at the moment.”

Andy nodded with furrowed brows until his eyes lit up slightly. He tilted his head to the side, asking, “I-is there anything I could do for you? Like organize your notes or…”

“Ingvar already does that.” Elias said flatly. “He’s my right hand.”

“Well,” Andy chuckled awkwardly with a shrug of his shoulders, “you still got a left hand that needs fitting.” At the blank stare, Andy’s laughter died off. “I-I mean there must be something I could do.”

Elias sighed, moving his shoulder away from Andy’s outstretched hand. His eyes flashed from light to dark, biting back a hiss. “You could do some good by waiting for instructions.” He shot a narrowed glare at Andy, adding bitterly, “That is if you _decide_ to staythe whole time. If not, then there’s no need for you to show at all.” Andy’s stomach twisted at the sharpness in the other’s voice, reaching out for him one last time before he cut him off. “Good night _Anders_.”

As his footsteps echoed throughout the library and the door slammed shut behind him, Andy slowly sank to the floor. He punched the rug, blinking back the warmth straining behind his eyelids as he dropped his chin to his chest. His gaze drifted over to the wooden floorboards where his reflection waved back at him in the flickering light from the fire. Andy’s eyes narrowed on his reflection, venom seeping into his voice as he whispered, “I hate you.”

Unbeknownst to the boy, however, was a film of ice that wandered up the walls of the hall outside, slowly following the young king as he rubbed his arms helplessly.

“Don’t feel.” He whispered, his voice shaking with each step. His eyes flashed constantly as he whimpered out, “ _Don’t feel._ ”

Yet, as he rushed down the hall to his quarters, black tendrils ice crept silently outside the window of the library where Andy laid. Its darkened frost crackled into a circle around the boy while the center cleared into a snowflake shape, a fog of breath tapping on the window—as if someone were peering in.

* * *

“We must prepare for war now!” Another heated voice burst among the cacophony of gentries prying for a second of silence to get their point across.

“With what? You’re country hasn’t faced war in years!”

“That’s why we must pool all of our resources together.”

A set of papers crumbled under fists viciously clenching onto the table. The icy glares that bombarded one another throughout the room set the room on the edge of a knife, constantly wobbling from sanity to pens being thrown through the air. The king of Arendelle leaned against the arm of his chair with a sigh, watching his fellow allies of dukes, duchesses, regents, and more press their lips together to contain the foam spewing out of their mouths.

“You mean the ones you blew off for five ship-fulls of wine.” The low hiss didn’t go unnoticed by the Spanish gentry, whose eyes narrowed dangerously thin onto the Duchess of Birmingham.

Ingvar leaned over towards Elias, whispering, “They’ll kill each other off before the enemy even reaches land.”

Elias rolled his eyes and whispered back, “I’m tempted to see them try.” Ingvar gave him a wry frown before brushing a strand of white hair behind his ear. Ingvar tapped his fingers against the long table as Elias sighed. Placing his hands on the table, he rose from his chair; causing all eyes in the room to automatically turn towards him. His eyes scanned all of their wary gazes before shaking his head.

“As much as you all would like to bury more salt into each others’ wounds,” he said, his voice clipped and calm. “The longer we bicker, the faster the Draugen will take us all down.” The group of gentries fell silent, glancing away from each other with reddened cheeks. 

Elias straightened his shoulders and turned towards the wall behind him. With a flick of his wrist, a small whirl of wind tugged down at a map of the eight realms; the gentries’ kingdoms circled in either black or red while markers of a bony creature lied at the foot of the map. Elias turned back towards the gentries, hands folded behind his back.

“Ingvar,” he said, without looking at the man. “Would you inform us of what you extracted from the spy?”

Ingvar cleared his throat, moving over towards the map.

“From the questioning, we’ve gathered that our crasher is indeed a part of the Draugen.” A muffled gasp resonated amongst the gentries as Ingvar moved a hand towards the map, his index finger tracing over the intricate painted mountains and oceans. “She claimed that she was sent here from the western Draugen unit bent. And from her marks, she was not lying.”

“Marks?” A gentry inquired.

Ingvar pointed to the bony creature on the map. “The mark of the Vipen.” The gentry shuddered as Ingvar continued. “A creature of nightmares that was said to on its death bed raise a clan suffering from the greed and lust of titans with powers of their own, thus leading to the birth of the Draugen. However…”

“What Ingvar?” Elias said.

Ingvar hesitated, his brows furrowed as he finished, “That was all, the girl said.”

“What do you mean that was all? You questioned her didn’t you?” A Polish gentry snapped.

“Of course we did. But every time she spoke it was of what the Draugen had already accomplished from slaughtering the titans to enslaving man. Despite our persuasion, that was all she would repeat.”

A snort broke the thick spell the news casted over the room. King Westerguard shook his head, leaning back in his chair with a smirk lacing beneath his beard and mustache.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he said, waving his hand in the air as if swatting something from his ear. “But this spy sounds more like a rebel bent on resurrecting a lost cause.” The thick, auburn hairs on his upper lip trembled in a twisted amusement. “If anything this is an enemy kingdom trying to weaken us all—you especially, your highness. After all, not all the realms were too thrilled of accepting you as the overseer of us after Mist Haven.”

The king’s words hung heavily in the air, the gentries’ very breaths crackling under the weight of the new turn of perspective. Elias’s brows knitted together in a frown as he let out a deep sigh. He slowly sank back into his chair, rubbing his brows.

“And, please forgive me for my rudeness,” King Westerguard said. “The fire that harmed your village could have very well been from one of the damned monsters you vanquished during the wars. The marks burnt into the ground could just be an illusion to a greater conspiracy in progress.”

Elias’s lips thinned out as he weaved his fingers together and propped his chin up. “That is a strong possibility.” He said. “However, we—”

The gentries nodded slowly as if coming out of a thaw when the doors to the meeting hall creaked open. Their gazes turned towards the door cracked ajar as a mop of strawberry-blonde hair poked into the room. Elias raised his head among the throng of arched eyebrows as the boy slipped into the room. The door slammed shut behind him, causing him to wince. A sheepish smile squirmed across his lips.

“Sorry,” he chuckled uneasily. Andy shifted closer to the very end of the table, quickly sliding into an empty chair at the corner. He strung his fingers together and cleared his throat. “Please, continue.”

The gentries blinked quizzically as Elias shook his self out of his daze. The young king looked back towards King Westerguard.

“As I was saying,” Elias said, “although the attacks may be from another source, we must all set up a series of precautions in the mean time. Arendelle was far off guard and suffered because of that. If this continues, then the stakes may grow much higher than anticipated.”

“I agree, your highness,” the Spanish gentry said with a firm nod, “which is why I ask for an attack system among us in case one of us should fall.”

The duchess of Birmingham rolled her eyes, digging her cheek against her hand as she mumbled under her breath, “Figures a drunkard can’t hold his own.”

The gentry snapped his head towards her, his lips pulling back into a snarl.

“At least I don’t go around selling my children to pay off centuries of debt!” He snapped heatedly.

The duchess’s dark eyes boiled as she scraped her nails across the table. “Why you reckless, pigheaded—”

“ _Enough!_ ” The icy bark snipped the tension in the room instantly, albeit sending tendrils of snow brushing through the room. The head chair Elias sat in screeched across the floor as he stood up. The temperature in the room wavered ever so slightly with his glare shooting between the two gentries. The two shuddered back into their seats under the king’s gaze, catching the flicker between ice, blue irises to stormy, black. “Our kingdoms are being preyed upon by some unknown foe, and you two are busy trying to tear each other apart! _Don’t let yourselves become your enemy before you’ve even faced them._ ”

Lord Louis gulped heavily at the flaming silence that whisked at them before tentatively raising a hand. “If I may, your highness,” he stumbled over his tongue, silently thanking the gods for not putting him in the same regime as the young king during the war. “We do know who is attacking us. No one, but the Draugen would cause such agonizingly, slow distress.”

Before he could finish, a barking wail of laughter thundered through the room. King Westerguard shot a glare at the French lord, his smoldering, green eyes showing no humor in them, as he flung his hand in the air.

“The Draugen have been dead for centuries.” He proclaimed. “These— _bastards_ who are attacking us one by one is just a wolf in sheep’s clothing trying to make us uneasy with these myths!” He rose from his seat and slammed a hand on his chest. “I’ll admit the southern isles too have been attacked by these fools by poisoning our harvests, but we struck them on the spot. I say as soon as we see them, we take them down until the last _bloody morsel_ is cut down!”

“Tis not good to belittle legends so easily Westerguard,” a low, cool voice said. Lady Tirith rolled her neck to the side to stare up at the man, her hazel orbs growing murky with each word as her hair brushed over her shoulders. She idly swayed a dark, caramel-brown hand towards Elias and Ingvar. “Legends have ways of living through the young.”

King Westerguard’s teeth grinded against each other. He ran a large hand through his hair, causing his auburn locks to fall to the sides of his face.

“I don’t fear a mere legend, _my lady_ ,” he bit out, practically hissing the last two words. “What I fear is that you all believe in some bloody fairytale without so much of a glance of the threat itself! I mean have any of us seen these ‘powerful’ creatures in the middle of any of their attacks?”

A hand slowly raised in the air, bringing the group’s attention towards the one who dared interrupt them. Andy gulped, choking on the bow tied perfectly in his throat as he forced his trembling limbs to steady. He sucked in a breath, squeaking, “Um…not to get off track or anything, but do the Draugen by chance in their real form have skulls for faces and these tiny, beady eyes in their sockets?”

Lady Tirith tilted her head to the side, blinking slowly. “Yes, actually. In the olden times before us they found no need for skin.”

Andy’s heart skipped in his chest as he scratched the back of his head. He felt the wood of his chair dig into his back as the gentries’ voices began to rise into another argument. He mumbled something quickly under his breath, his face ashen. The gentries froze again and turned to the prince.

“I beg your pardon?” Lady Tirith arched an eyebrow.

Andy winced and rushed his words together once more. He squirmed in the chair, fiddling with the ends of his tunic before feeling the council’s eyes boring into him.

“Anders.” Andy flinched at the sharp tone in Ingvar’s voice.

He took a deep breath and sighed, “Last night…during the fire, I was trapped inside the village bakery and…and…” A gentry was about to retort about the prince’s absence until Elias raised a hand. The gentry instantly swallowed his words as Elias nodded.

“Go on,” he urged.

A drop of sweat trembled down Andy’s back, gagging at the roar of coppery ash that flooded his mouth. He gulped, forcing the words out of his mouth, “I saw one of them in the flames. He just walked through them like they weren’t even there and just stared at me before I fell unconscious.”

The gentries choked on the air that wavered in temperature again. And then Pandora’s box opened. The gentries leaped from their seats, a series of security and battle plans flying from their tongues. Andy shrunk back into his chair as the cacophony of the meeting polluted his eardrums.

 _Why did I even come here?_ Andy thought to his self. His fingers played with loose, beige thread until a clap of ice snapped the gentry out of their maddened haze. Ingvar’s steely glare punctured the air of rebellion out of them as they sank back into their chairs.

“There will be no war.” Ingvar said firmly. “Not on Arendelle, the Southern Isles, or any other land. Be it Draugen or not, we will stand our ground in the midst of any danger.”

“But Sir Ingvar,” Lord Louis cried, “this _is_ the Draugen. The blood on their hands drowns out anything from Mist Haven or the Grimm!”

“Then we must solidify ourselves before they can shatter our defenses any further.” Elias cut in. “All of us here from the first realm to the seventh are bound together one way or another. Yet, all eight must be united if we wish to eradicate this threat.”

King Westerguard let out a deep sigh from across the table, rubbing his forehead. He flicked his gaze towards Elias as he said, “Threat or no threat, the eighth realm in the north hasn’t shown its face since the wars, and with the…” he hesitated, rolling the word in his mouth with a grimace before continuing, “ _Draugen_ attacking our vital sources, how are we to reach them?” He panned his eyes across the table. Andy blinked, his ears buzzing as the king spoke. “If any of us sets foot outside of our lands to round in a distant kingdom, then that would be the perfect time for them to strike. If anything we should be focusing on solidifying our defenses to strike our foe down.”

Murmurs instantly blistered from King Westerguard’s point, clattering against each other across the table. Furrowed brows and frowns grew deeper among the gentries’ faces while Andy tapped a finger against the table.

“It wouldn’t make sense for us to send our leaders to the north,” a gentry whispered besides Andy. Her gaze was locked onto a larger man who fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves.

“But wouldn’t that be best,” he murmured. “We could gain another ally.”

“At what cost?” the woman chided. “A kingdom or a leader who may not even come back? Haven’t you heard what happens in those mountains?”

Andy chewed on his bottom lip, his finger continuously tapping the table. Suddenly his eyes widened as he slammed his hand on the dark wood and leaped up from his chair. With his hand raised high in the air he exclaimed, “I’ll do it!”

The murmurs in the room grew silent, the gentries’ staring at him as if he had caught on fire. Andy flinched at the silence surrounding him before clearing his throat.

“I mean,” he said, clasping his hands together. “I would gladly go to the north and negotiate with them on becoming our ally.” A snort clucked off the tongues of the gentries as Andy waved them off.

“I know. I know. Why send the guy who couldn’t even stay at his first royal meeting? Why send me?” He scuffled away from his chair as he rounded about the table. “I mean, really? I’m just another family member of the king you all chose to be the realms’ overseer.” The gentries’ frowns faltered slightly, glancing at one another. Andy’s heart battered at his chest as he wrapped his arms around one of the gentry’s chairs. “But I’m also unnoticeable—unknown—in public, which would allow me of all people to leave the country without the Draugen noticing.”

The gentries nodded, some rubbing the tips of their chins as the prince continued. Andy moved over to the other side of the table. “And if I were sent, then it would cost less for travel and protection over a court member whose history is,” he spared a quick glance in Elias and Ingvar’s direction, “not so violent and would allow a potential ally to relax more easily than approached by a supposedly rumored threat.”

Andy slid over back to his corner, feeling the others’ eyes following him as he sank into his chair.

“Then you would all—also—have time to iron out the nitty gritty details of protection and defense should another attack arise.” Andy swayed his head to the side. “All of this if you just sent little ol’ me.”

Andy’s words hung in the air, prickling through the new silence among the table until the Spanish gentry murmured, “That could work.”

“Indeed.” The duchess of Birmingham nodded.

Slowly, the gentries’ voices rose, their agreements bundling together in unison. Ingvar found his self absentmindedly nodding until he shook his head. He turned to Elias whose face remained still in its cold exterior.

Elias sent a look towards his uncle who nodded in response. While their eyes flittered back and forth, the Spanish gentry rose from his chair to look towards the young king.

“Your highness, I nominate Prince Anders as regent to go to the north.” He said, smoothing back his dark hair.

“I have to agree, the prince does make a fair point,” The duchess of Birmingham nodded.

The gentries began bombarding the king with their agreements until Elias rose from his chair. The room fell silent again as the gentries tried to pick at the young man’s stony expression. Elias merely rolled his shoulders and nodded towards the door.

“I believe now would be a good time for a break,” he said calmly.

The gentries held their tongues, swallowing any other nominations and the eighth realm as they shuffled to the doors of the meeting hall. Elias stared down at the table with a firm line creasing across his lips while the gentries fled to the hall outside. Andy swallowed thickly, casting a single glance over at Elias before slipping outside as well.

Andy rubbed his arm, breathing in the calm air outside of the meeting room. As the gentries dispersed along the hallway, the boy walked down the hall towards the back staircase. The dark mauve walls flew by in a blur as Andy raced down the stairs to another hall. He glanced towards the door at the end of the hall and flung them open. A rush of chilly air brushed across Andy’s cheeks while he walked out onto the small balcony.

A sigh fell from his lips, leaning against the marble railing as he drunk in the rolling hills before him. Minuscule blips of people scurried throughout the village, shifting through the rubble of the village with guards marching through—all the while avoiding the fallen seasonal pole that had collapsed onto the Draugen message. Aqua, blue orbs glistened at the corners of Andy’s eyes as he brushed the back of his hand against them.

“It’s always the aftermath that’s the hardest part, isn’t it?”

Andy jumped at the deep voice, whipping his head around towards the doors. King Westerguard stood at the foot of the door with a melancholy smile softening his cheeks. He stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the railing, eyes running over the charred remains of the village.

“This was the first time you’ve been in such a situation, hmm?” King Westerguard inquired, crossed his arms over the railing. Andy nodded and let his weight fall upon the railing. The boy laced his fingers together, chewing on his bottom lip as the king sighed deeply. “You know, the first death you see is the only one that will haunt you.”

“I doubt that,” Andy laughed grimly. “It’s a wonder my bro— _king_ can be so calm about it.”

“To be fair,” King Westerguard replied. “Your brother isn’t like us ordinary men. He’s seen things—done things—no child should ever have to face.” Andy’s head sank into his arms, rubbing his hands over his face as he groaned. “He’s learned that to grieve, is to slow down. And if you slow down, then you’ll eventually stop. And if you stop, there’s nothing left to do in the world.”

King Westerguard turned towards the boy. “But I suppose that’s why he has you, hmm?”

“What?”

King Westerguard shrugged, nodding back towards the hall. “To remind him what he’s fighting for. I’m sure he must have been torn inside out when he came back from his first war.”

Andy’s cheeks burned as his heart sank. He turned away to glare at a crack wriggling through the railing.

“He didn’t seem torn.” Andy said, biting his cheek. “We never were that close when we were younger. So if he was, I’m sure Uncle— _Sir Ingvar_ took care of him. I was just there to welcome him back.”

King Westerguard blinked curiously at the boy.

“But you two seem to be well acquainted with one another…oh, forgive me.” King Westerguard said. “I’m trying to pry into something best kept locked.” He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing out the loose strands of his crimson locks and let a smile widen across his lips. He nudged Andy with his elbow, saying, “That was quite the plan of action you had back in there.”

A light shade of pink dusted Andy’s cheeks, rubbing his arm again as he grinned sheepishly.

“I just figured I’d put my unknown status to good use.” Andy said. “That and make up for the trouble I caused for missing the meeting.”

“Oh, come now,” King Westerguard chuckled heartedly. “When I was your age, I was off on midnight rendezvous almost every night. And meetings? I would come back to them five hours after they were over.”

Andy snorted, “Your parents must have been furious.”

“Furious? More like spewing lava from their mouths when they finally found me.”

Andy couldn’t help the laughter hiccupping from his mouth as the king went on until a soft chime sounded throughout the castle. King Westerguard looked back and clucked his tongue.

“Looks like our ‘break’ is over,” Andy murmured with a frown.

“From that speech of yours, I’m sure the gentries will have much to discuss.” King Westerguard clapped the boy’s shoulder, shaking it forcefully with a smile. “I have to say my prince it’s been a pleasure talking with you.” The corners of Andy’s lips crinkled into a grin as the king began to walk back into the hall. “And it’ll be an even greater pleasure when I can you son.”

Andy’s heart froze, his hands on the doors falling to his sides as he lunged out towards the king. His hand slapped onto the larger man’s shoulder while Andy ogled at him. He quickly pulled his hand away from the king, chuckling uneasily.

“I’m sorry,” Andy said, scratching the back of his head. “I wasn’t aware that Arendelle was going to be unified to the Southern Isles. But don’t you think calling me son is a bit odd with my king marrying one of your—”

“My boy, what do you mean?” The king raised an eyebrow. “Of course I would call you my son. After all, you’ll be wedded to one of my girls. I thought your brother talked to you about this.”

Andy’s eyes widened, his heart dropping straight into his stomach. His feet began walking down the hall with a mind of their own, slowly gaining speed as he raced down the hall. His teeth ground together, red splotching across his cheeks with one thought shouting angrily in his mind.

_Elias!_


	8. Chapter 7

Elias rubbed his temples, sighing deeply, as the gentries filled the meeting room one by one. He glowered at the small cracks creeping up the side of the table that his fingers were clenched around, the sharp snaps of wood falling silent under his grasp.

“Breathe, Elias,” the man whispered, his fingers tentatively releasing the wood. “Breathe.”

Once his fingers released the edge of the table, a frown curled at the corner of Elias’s lips. The cracks squirmed through the dark wood like a spider’s web chasing after the knotted spider near the edge. Elias absentmindedly chewed on his thumb nail, his eyes narrowing on the cracks while tapping his fingers.

“Keep that up and you’ll have the entire table split in half.” Elias rolled his eyes at Ingvar as the elder man skimmed through a page of notes beside him. Silvery, grey eyes glanced over at the young king with furrowed brows. Ingvar shot one last glance at the gentries filing into the room, hushed, jittery voices matching their scrunched expressions. “If you need another moment—”

Elias dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “I’m fine Ingvar.” He sighed, rolling his neck to the side as he rose from his seat. “Let’s just steer this away from anything we’ll regret.”

Ingvar nodded as the last gentry took his seat. The doors began to slide closed until Andy stumbled through the heavy doors. The gentries turned to him, a mixture of glittering eyes and firm frowns crossing their features as the young prince staggered to keep his footing. Andy brought his gaze up towards the young king, a snarl bubbling along his gritted teeth, and stormed down the room. He came to an abrupt halt in front of Elias.

“ _My King_ ,” Andy bit out, forcing his twitching fingers to thread together in front of him. “May I talk to you for a moment?”

Elias arched an eyebrow. “Andy, can’t this wait? We’re about to—”

“No!” Andy snapped. “It can’t!”

Elias blinked quizzically at the boy until his gaze locked upon the bright red dusting the tips of his ears and scrunched up nose. He sighed irritably at him.

“Well, I’m sorry Andy,” Elias frowned. “It’s just going to have to.”

Andy’s shoulders trembled, huffing quietly as he walked back to his corner of the room. The red from his ears spilled over his cheeks, simmering beneath his flesh. He sank into his chair carefully. Elias cleared his throat, the murmurs of the gentries dying down instantly.

“My allies,” Elias said, folding his hands behind his back. “An initiative to send a representative to the eighth realm in the north was discussed only moments ago. After taking into consideration our resources and limited movement, I have decided to follow through on this plan of action.”

Andy’s heart skipped a beat as he eyed the young king. He tried to meet his gaze from down the table only to watch Elias turn towards the other gentries.

“However, the representative will still be up for debate.”

Andy fought the frown sliding down his lips to no avail. A gentry beside him raised a fist to his mouth as he coughed into it.

“Now that you bring this up, your majesty, after having some time to evaluate the prince’s suggestion, I propose we send a representative close to your court,” the man started, giving Andy a sidelong glance. The wrinkles weighing down his cheeks scrunched as he turned back to the king. “However, perhaps a candidate who isn’t so…” The gentry paused, glancing in the air to search for a proper word, “ _young_.”

Andy bit down on his tongue, swallowing back a retort before it could escape his mouth.

“Thank you Lord Ronan.” Elias nodded. “Then I nominate Sir Ingvar as our representative.”

“I’m behind that.” Lord Louis said.

A row of gentries nodded their agreements, softly murmuring about their past regent’s successes and skill sets. Andy’s stomach twisted, forcing his glare down on his tightly intertwined fingers. The heat roiling in his veins trickled against his bones with every murmur that flittered by him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Elias ready to say more when a hand rose into the air.

“Forgive me for interrupting, your majesty,” King Westerguard’s voice rumbled. He rose from his seat, his large shoulders rolling as he stood. “But I nominate the prince for this mission.” The gentries ogled the man as he continued.

“With all due respect, Sir Ingvar, you are just too widely known be it politics or battle. Our prince, however,” he swayed a hand towards Andy, “as he stated earlier, is unknown and has a greater chance of slipping by any looming threat.”

Andy felt his cheeks heat up, squirming in his seat while a small grin crossed his lips, then frowned once he ran the words through his head.

 _Okay,_ he thought bitterly. _Double handed comments must be a usual thing in the Southern Isles._

The corners of Elias’s mouth deepened with an oncoming frown until he shook his head.

“That may be the case,” Elias said, “but should said _threat_ come forth, the prince won’t have any defense.”

“Guards.” King Westerguard said, throwing his hands in the air. “One or two should be plenty to protect him. That and if we are to start unifying our forces, then it’s best to have Sir Ingvar here to assist the defense.”

Elias’s brows knitted together slightly, another denial squirming at the tip of his tongue when a chair screeched along the floor. He glanced up at Andy, his palms flat on the table as he looked at King Westerguard.

“And since I don’t have any _‘protection,’_ ” Andy said. “Then the northern kingdom will be more open to discussion with someone who won’t have a chance at harming them.”

Elias fought against a flinch when the elder king chimed back, “And you could bear a gift. Show some modesty towards those who we wish to be allies with.”

“What kind of gift would they like though?”

“Well, with it being torn between freezing and blazing every season, perhaps some resources to replenish them for a while.”

The gentries sat with quizzical expressions wrinkling their features as the prince and the elder king went back and forth. Elias gawked at the two, glancing at Ingvar who meekly shrugged.

“Oh,” Andy exclaimed. “What about those heavy wrap things you give to the leader?”

“You mean cloaks,” King Westerguard arched an eyebrow as Andy nodded eagerly.

“Yeah, those! We get a really nice one, but hand out as many to the kingdom’s people along with their ruler.”

“The citizens approach.” King Westerguard scratched his beard and nodded. “A nice touch.”

“Knowing how skillful your textiles are, maybe we could have one custom made for their leader.” Andy said.

“Yes, but that would take quite some time along with the others.”

“Then I can just take the leader’s ahead when—”

“Wait, wait, stop!” Elias shook his head, a strangled cry of resentment caught in his throat, as he raised his hands in the air. Andy and King Westerguard fell silent glancing at the young king while the gentries shrunk back in their seats. “Westerguard, thank you for your suggestion, but my brother will not—”

“I think it’s up to the rest of our _allies,_ my king,” Andy cut in. Elias’s brow wrinkled at the smug grin teasing the corner of Andy’s lips, “to decide who to send for such an important mission.”

The Spanish gentry nodded his head, rising from his chair as he swayed his hand towards Andy.

“I agree with King Westerguard.” He said, holding onto the band of his sash. “The prince shows potential towards this mission.”

The Duchess of Birmingham rose as well, nodding, “I…agree as well, your majesty. I also nominate Prince Anders to be our representative.”

A chair toppled back onto the floor as Lord Ronan stood, his fleshy lips smacking against each other loudly. He shot a glare across the table towards the duchess.

“Yes, let’s all send the lamb into the slaughterhouse,” he rumbled. “Shall we also blindfold him?”

“You know nothing of the future,” a gentry snapped heatedly. “Perhaps there is a chance the prince could reach them.”

“And then what? Sneak out of that meeting as well?”

The heated voices began to strike against one another, bundling into wave after wave of blistering debate. Andy’s presence drifted amongst the gentries, being pulled into the argument and brushed off like air. He gulped uneasily as the gentries’ voices boiled the temperature in the room. Andy’s fingers twined around each other again until an earsplitting slam splintered through the rumble. The gentries’ voices withered back into their mouths, the icy tinge in the air making them swallow any other remarks as they sank back into their seats.

“ _Enough._ ” Elias’s said; his voice icily soft. He glanced at Andy through his fallen bangs. “Prince Anders, would you please step out for a moment.”

Andy flinched, yet his eyes narrowed as he straightened at his spot. He crossed his arms.

“No.” Ingvar shot him a deadly glare that made his insides screech along his limbs. Andy held absolutely still, feeling the bitter, icy air press against him—urging him to fall back against the chair.

Elias huffed silently, “Anders, this mission requires more than just luck.” He turned to King Westerguard. “And the north is a deadly wasteland. It would be folly even thinking of sending the prince when he has no training.”

“But—” Andy cried.

“Anders, please.” Elias cut off. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Andy crossed his arms over his chest before they could slam the table and snapped, “Well according to my future _father-in-law_ , this mission does!”

The gentries flinched, glancing between King Westerguard, Andy, and Elias. The calm façade on Elias’s face cracked slightly, a mere millisecond of shock sparking beneath his eyes. Elias’s eyes hardened, straightening his back as he smoothed back his ruffled locks. The gentries swallowed thickly as they eyed their overseer, his expression unreadable as he said, “Please, excuse me for a moment. Ingvar, would you be so kind and continue.”

Before Ingvar could say anything, the young king strolled down the meeting room towards the door. Andy’s glare remained rooted on the back of Elias’s head until a pinch of ice plucked at his ear—an invisible hand dragging him towards the door at Elias’s heels. As the two disappeared down the hall, the doors slammed shut; echoing along the corners of the room.

The gentries glanced at Ingvar curiously as he cleared his throat. He straightened his uniform and moved over where Elias once stood.

“Well then,” he said, “the discussion of the representative will be put on hold until the king reaches a decision.” He warily eyed the door, biting the inside of his cheek before turning towards the map. “Now, our defenses must all be diffused throughout our individual kingdoms. Limited traveling will have to limited until then…”

As the meeting continued, Andy stumbled as he was practically thrown into the king’s private study. He rubbed his ear, flinching at the icy chill running through it, and glared at Elias.

“I hate it when you do that.” He grumbled as Elias closed the door.

“And I hate how you draw attention to matters that aren’t concrete.” Elias pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Concrete?” Andy’s nose wrinkled, a red flush roiling beneath his cheeks as he stomped his foot. “Well _daddy Westerguard_ seemed to think me as his son was very concrete!”

Elias sighed, leaning back against his desk. He looked up at Andy with a frown then looked down towards the new and old stack of letters littering his desk.

“I was going to talk to you about it beforehand.”

“When?” Andy gawked. “Before or after you wrapped me up and shipped me first class to the Southern Isles!”

“It wasn’t going to be like that Andy.” Andy’s hands balled into fists as Elias massaged his temples. “It was an idea the king and I discussed after analyzing our current alliance.”

Andy bit down on his lip, trying to ignore the sting in his chest. “So I’m a bartering tool now? Well that must make things easier for you then.”

Elias folded his arms across his chest. “This isn’t about me Andy.” Andy arched an eyebrow at him. “I was considering the proposition, and thought that perhaps it would be…good for you. Give you some stability to your life.”

Andy scoffed, “ _Stability?_ So now I’m insane!”

“You know what I mean.” The elder replied flatly.

“No, _my king,_ what do you mean?” he snapped.

Elias fought off a groan and turned towards his desk. Shuffling through a drawer beside him, Elias pulled out a stack of papers in hand. His fingers flicked through the stack thoroughly before reading off, “December twentieth, a villager knocked over a display of art worked by the orphanage’s children for the seasonal ceremony.”

Andy flinched, pink blooming over the red splotched over his cheeks while Elias flicked to another paper.

“January first, during the forth coming celebration for the year, a villager set fire to the barn holding the reindeer and set them on a stampede.” Elias flicked to the next page sharply. “February fourteenth, a villager devoured a chocolate shipment meant to travel to the Eastern Isles as a gift. March fifteenth, a villager tore through a salesman’s late harvest meant to be sold later in the year—”

“Okay, I fixed that guy’s cart _and_ paid him back.” Andy cut in. “Plus those guard reports are how old now?”

Elias waved the papers in the air, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “Five years ago.” He leaned down to the drawer again, pulling out a thicker file of papers. “Four years ago.” The pile grew thicker. “Three years ago.”

The papers slammed harder against the desk until Elias pulled out the largest pile of papers from his desk. The thick stack shook the table as he dropped them. Andy warily eyed the largest stack, avoiding Elias’s gaze.

“Past two months.” Elias tilted his head to the side with crossed arms. Andy’s teeth desperately tried to disappear in the blanket of his bottom lip as he shuffled from foot to foot. “Andy, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. I know you’re young, but perhaps being bound to someone will keep you rooted to where and who you’re around.”

“Sure it will,” Andy mumbled, his voice bitter. “And I’m sure uncle thought the exact same way.”

“Don’t speak about our uncle that way.” Elias said.

Andy couldn’t help the crooked smile on his lips. “Are you gonna deny that he didn’t mention this before? How is _this_ supposed to be best for me?”

“You make it pretty hard to find out, Andy.” Elias snapped. “And I told you that the marriage arrangement hasn’t been set yet.”

Andy’s blood boiled as he crossed his arms. He jabbed his thumb towards his self as he snapped. “Well, you can just tell Westerguard that it’s off—cause I’m already engaged!”

Elias’s eyes widened, whipping around the desk to move towards the boy. He stopped a foot away from him.

“ _What?_ ”

Andy smirked, tilting his chin up in the air.

“Yep. I got engaged last night! Course she proposed, but that’s besides the point.”

Elias ogled the boy as if he had just sprouted wings and horns before choking out his next words. “Who?”

“A goddess.” Andy said haughtily. “A queen of all who dare cross her path.”

Elias’s wide eyes slowly narrowed, arching an eyebrow at the boy. A lock of ivory hair fell over his eyes while he asked flatly, “It’s the stable girl, isn’t it?”

Andy’s proud smile withered, staggering back as if the question backhanded him.

“She’s a _queen_.” He said. “Everyone looks up to her.”

Elias blinked down at him, running his gaze up and down the boy’s jittery frame. “It’s the stable girl.”

“She’s not a stable girl!” Andy stomped. “She’s an ice harvester and reindeer herder!”

“Yes, because that makes everything so much better.” Elias blew the stray lock from his eyes. “Pity that that ring will go to waste.”

Andy stumbled back, glaring daggers at the man. “What are talking about?”

Elias rolled his neck to the side. “How many children do you plan to have?”

“W-what?”

Elias leaned down to Andy, his face inches from his. “How many _children_ do you plan to have?” A searing pink infested Andy’s cheeks, his tongue caught at the roof of his mouth. Elias stared at him blankly, pushing on, “What will she do about her ice mistress dream after you’re married?”

Andy swallowed heavily. “W-we’ll work on that with time.”

“ _Wonderful_ , a fruitless marriage for the kingdom.” Elias leaned back.

Andy’s teeth bared as he snapped, “Then you marry Westerguard then if it will be so _fruitful_!”

“Andy.” Elias warned.

“I mean, nothing’s stopping you.” The words ignited from Andy’s tongue before he could hold them back. “You’re the god damned king, you can do whatever the hell you want!”

Elias’s eyes narrow on the boy. “Watch your tongue!”

Andy groaned, turning on his heel towards the door when a hand snatched his wrist.

“Let go, Elias.”

Elias swallowed the venomous sting that was spat out with his name as he tightened his hold on his brother.

“Andy, you’re not a child anymore.” He said. “When will you open your eyes and see that there’s more at stake.”

“When will _you_ let me out of this hell hole?” Andy writhed in the elder’s grasp, groaning at the icy flesh holding him.

“Hell?” Elias chuckled humorlessly, his eyes darkening. “You think this—your home—is Hell? Try being on a battlefield! Try running through a fire like yesterday _everyday_ Andy. That’s what you’re volunteering for!”

Andy bit the inside of his cheek, shuddering under the stony fire rousing beneath icy, blue orbs. Small flurries of snow swept across his face, yet the anger bubbling in Andy’s chest was already raging against the quick temperature drop of the study; his words flaring out like the flames’ tongue against the chilly air.

“Then why is it that everyone else seems to think I can do it?” Andy snapped.

“ _Because you’re a cheap bet!_ ” Elias snarled.

Andy’s eyes widened, a small bubble of tears swimming behind his eyelids as the words tore through him mercilessly. Blind heat seared through his veins—his bones—like a ravenous wolf thrown loose. A cloud of darkness veiled over his mind, his tongue flicking against the roof of his mouth for words to throw back at the young king, yet the tears had already begun to silently spill down his cheeks.

Andy yanked his wrist from Elias’s grip, trying once again to reach the door when Elias’s hand fell upon his shoulder. The icy grip returned to his wrist, gentler than last time.

“Andy, wait.” Elias said, whirling Andy towards him. “That’s not what I—”

“Of course it is.” Andy spat, pure venom roiling with each word. His nails clawed at his balled up palms. “It’s what everyone thinks.”

“Well maybe if you stopped acting so recklessly, your people—your allies—could actually consider you as more than a broken spare that lounges in a castle.”

The last gate holding the wolf shattered, the wolf howling with its jaws spread wide as Andy whipped his glassy eyes towards Elias with his teeth bared.

“ _At least I’m still considered human instead of a monster!_ ”

The moment the words left his mouth, Andy felt his heart freeze in his chest. The icy fingers fell from his wrist and he blinked through the tears lingering on his eyes. The blurred kaleidoscope fell back into place and Andy instantly wanted to punch his self. The cool mask on Elias’s face broke; his stared at Andy with wide eyes, an outstretched hand ready to brush against Andy’s cheek retracting against his chest. Andy winced at the quiver of Elias’s shoulders and pursed lips that tried to hold back his trembles.

Andy opened his mouth then let it close, looking away from the man and towards the rug on the floor. Guilt began rippling through his stomach as the heavy silence made the short distance between them painfully close, gnawing at the last threads of hope either of them had for one another. Andy forced his hand to move, reaching out towards Elias’s only to have him jerk away before he could even touch him. The man’s ruffled hair fell over his eyes as he rubbed his arms. The boy ignored the slap of rejection and cleared his throat.

“We should probably get back to the meeting.” Andy said quietly.

“No.” Andy looked up at the man. A stony expression steeled over Elias’s face, the quivering long gone with cold eyes taking their place. “You’re done. And rest assured that your nomination won’t be mentioned again.”

Andy flinched as Elias walked past him, his shoulder roughly gliding against his passively. Andy fought to keep his voice steady.

“Y-you can’t do that!” Andy said.

A smirk twisted at the corner of Elias’s lips as he shot an icy glare at the boy.

“I’m the god damned king,” he sneered, shoving the door open. His voice dropped into an icy hiss. “I can do whatever the _hell_ I want.”

The door closed shut behind him as Andy let his head fall against the wood. His knuckles slammed into the door, only to wince at the pain that pinched him. The boy slid to the floor, cradling his fist as he sighed, “Way to go Andy. You hurt him again.”


	9. Chapter 8

Waves rippled across the water as a stone plopped through the surface. Andy growled, puffing out his cheeks as he watched his stone sink. He snatched up another stone, swinging his arm back to throw.

"I thought the mope fest was inside!"

Andy turned on his heel, blinking at the smile stitched across Kristjana's lips. Andy's fingers curled tighter around the stone.

"The mope fest needed a change of scenery," he shrugged, flinging the stone. The rock splashed into the water, sloshing fractals of the sunset across shore. The boy groaned, running his hands down his face.

Kristjana smirked, sliding down the clutter of rocks packed against the foot of the palace walls. Her boots kicked up sand with each skid. She picked up a stone, flicking wrist as it flew from her hand. Andy's brows furrowed as Kristjana flexed her wrist.

"It's all in the wrist," she said, a small smirk curving her lips.

"I knew that," Andy huffed, crossing his arms.

He kicked at a small lump of sand, glowering at the golden grains as the waves devoured the small strip of the shore; leaving behind broken shells upon matted streaks of brown sea foam. Kristjana's smirk vanished. Her fingers brushed over the tunic hanging loosely from Andy's shoulders, squeezing his shoulder.

"I'm guessing the meeting didn't go well?" she asked.

Andy's shoulders slouched with a heavy sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, shooting a glance at her.

"Well," he started, tugging the collar of his shirt closer around his neck. Kristjana gently tugged his arm down the shoreline, their footprints being swallowed by the waves as they walked. "The allies are all in agreement that a war is brewing."

He mentally kicked his self at the wince that wrinkled Kristjana's features. The light in her eyes dimmed, swallowing thickly as her fingers dug into Andy's arm.

"Oh," she murmured, forcing her gaze back on him. "W-was that all?"

"No." Andy said. His stomach twisted at the prod of fresh memories. "They decided to send a someone down to the northern kingdom to gain a better defense."

Kristjana eased her grip on Andy's arm, letting out an uneasy sigh.

"That seems good. That's a good plan." Kristjana stuttered before asking, "That seems awfully short for a meeting that lasted all day. What are they going to do with their defenses?"

"I don't know," Andy grumbled. "His royal jerkness, kicked me out."

"What?" She gawked. "But...I thought he was the one so gun hoe about you being his right hand man."

"No kidding," he said. "Apparently I'm old enough to show up as his right hand shadow, but not old enough to be a regent to get more allies!"

Kristjana froze, her hand falling from Andy's arm. "What?" She snapped more than asked. Andy cringed, grimacing at the cold glare beaming from her gaze.

"Kris-"

"Don't 'Kris' me, Andy! We're barely engaged for a day and you want to run off-again!"

"Kristjana, what else am I supposed to do?" Kristjana crossed her arms across her chest. "This was as close as I could get to being useful."

The girl frowned, arching an eyebrow at him with a roll of her eyes. "So the only way to be 'useful' is to run off and get yourself killed?" Andy's lips squirmed between a grimace and a frown as Kristjana tugged her knitted hat off. Her fingers ran through the tangled nest of her hair with a sigh. She mumbled under her breath, "God only knows how your brother is going to take our engagement."

"Yeah, about that..." Andy winced, biting down on his tongue. His fingers fumbled against each other as he coughed forcefully into his arm.

Kristjana shook her head and wrapped her hand around Andy's arm. She rested her head against his shoulder, sighing, "Andy, please, please, please-please don't do anything stupid. I don't...I can't..."

Her shoulders began trembling upon a wave of bitter memories buried deeper than yesterday's. Andy's brows knitted together, wrapping his arms around her trembling frame. He rested his chin on her head, nuzzling the blonde locks tickling his nose as he breathed in the earthy scent lingering on her.

"Don't worry," he whispered, placing a chaste kiss on the crown of her head. His stomach clenched, tying into a knot, as he forced out his next words. "I won't do anything reckless."

Kristjana lifted her head up. "Promise?"

Andy's heart skipped a beat at the golden brown orbs searing into and swallowed thickly. "Promise."

Kristjana sighed her shoulders slouching against him. Suddenly, her fist snapped out from under his grasp and slammed into his side. The yelped, jumping away from her as she huffed and tugged her hat back onto her head. She sniffed harshly, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. Andy arched his brows while Kristjana stomped away.

"Stupid prince. Acting like every girl's a damsel," Andy groaned, scurrying after her.

"You were the one holding onto me," Sand flew out from under them as Andy chased after her along the shore. "Kris, come on!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Andy caught the waning sunlight clinging to their shoulders. The fleeing sunset sketched their straggly silhouettes across the mauve sand, trampling over their footsteps lost in the night. Yet as the two ran on, a bitter chill roused through the air, sneaking through the small sliver of skin exposed on Andy's collar. The arctic air sank through his skin, causing his muscles to tremble.

Andy stuttered to a halt, his hands rubbing his arms furiously. Autumn air isn't this cold, Andy thought. The wind crept down his spine, almost caressing the knobs of spine as he he shuddered.

He glanced up, noting Kristjana waving to him from the foot of the wall. His eyes narrowed, forcing a curt wave back and forced his legs to move forward. His lips pressed together in a firm line as he thought, _I won't be reckless...just extra careful._


	10. Chapter 9

A dark, bloody sun chased after its nocturnal pearl as dusk simmered along the horizon. The light roamed through the tattered market square, dwindling on the edges of the marks scorched into the uprooted cobblestones. Villagers dragged themselves from their work huts, black draping from their shoulders for the ninth day of mourning since the fire; deep lines of sorrow etched onto their ever deepening frowns and the slightest twitch of their hands that had to grasp onto the nearest thing to remind themselves they were still here.

As the villagers began shifting to their homes in the remnant scraps left on the edges of the square, the fallen seasonal pole being avoided altogether, the docks were jostling with life. Dockworkers fumbled to and fro on a small ship, gathering sets of crates and ropes from the guards. Feet battered chaotically upon the boarding dock, blinking away the sea salt stinging their eyes, as the ship’s captain stomped off the ship. The crew instantly drew away from the portly man, his eyes shifted through the crowd until they landed on the foot of the docks.

He weaved through the dockhands quickly, gnawing mercilessly at the straw between his teeth as he approached the king. The captain took large strides towards Elias, his grease covered fingers ready to shake his hand until a deadly glare scattered his thoughts. The captain gulped under his past regent’s glower, stumbling back with a bowed head.

“Your majesty,” he said, his voice a hushed grumble stirred with liquor. The glare merely turned into an arched hint of un-amusement. The man flushed, quickly clearing his throat as he swayed a hand towards the ship. “We’re almost ready to depart.”

Elias nodded at him, his eyes tracing over the ship bobbing lightly along the waves. He absentmindedly walked down the dock, Ingvar and the captain on his heels, noting the faint splinters of wood that stuck up from the ship’s sides and the weather beaten maiden rooted to the ship’s figurehead. Her dark, vacant eyes grew lost in the run down cracks that crept down her forehead, one inching from the corner of her eye down her cheek like a frozen tear. Elias hummed and turned to the captain who was rambling on about their course.

“Captain,” Elias said. The man flinched, black streaks of grease striping his hair as he smoothed it back down. “Are you sure you don’t want another ship to borrow for the journey?”

The captain bit back a scoff, patting the side of the ship lovingly. “Your majesty, my darling has sailed through hell and back. She can handle anything in the North.”

Elias nodded slowly, unbeknownst to the small hint of ice nipping at the captain’s wrist with a flick of Ingvar’s finger.

“Are the supplies I’ve given you sufficient?”

“Y-yes,” the captain stuttered, shaking out his hand. He quickly added, “Thank you, your majesty.”

Elias sighed, giving the man a sheepish smile as he bowed his head. “I should be the one thanking you. After all, I’m asking you and your crew to take the time to travel to dangerous waters.”

Red dusted the man’s flabby cheeks, thankful that he had forgotten to shave his forest of a beard. The captain scratched the back of his neck and coughed roughly into his hand. “W-we’re just truly honored to be serving you, your highness.”

A crash shattered the captain’s train of thought, skittering his next line of sentiments astray. Whipping his head towards the boarding dock, the man snarled at his men. Two dockhands, a bulky man leading up towards the ship and a straggly teen down at the foot of the dock, inched up the boarding dock with a large crate between them, yet the crate now had a dent in the corner of its wood.

“You idiots!” he thundered, snatching the straw out from his mouth as he stormed towards the foot of the boarding dock. The two dockhands winced, eyeing the dented crate warily until the captain towered over them. The captain’s hand whipped the back of the older man’s head, hissing, “Do you have any idea how _expensive_ this is? _Especially when it’s a gift from the king?_ ”

“I didn’t drop the bloody thing,” the man retorted, glaring at the straggly teen. He jerked a thumb at him. “Mr. Muscle did.”

The teen flinched, his eyes veiled by the cap he pulled over his head. The captain moved over to him, towering over the trembling boy with a snarl. He raised his thick hand towards the boy, his fingers curling into a fist when a hand gently lowered his arm. The captain huffed and whirled around with a snap on the tip of his tongue that froze instantly. Elias flicked his gaze from the captain to the boy idly before pressing down firmly on the man’s arm.

“Now captain,” Elias said. The man winced as his arm was jerked down to his side, making his shoulder pop. He fought back against the urge to tremble at the pinch of pain creeping down his arm as Elias continued, “There’s no need to get so worked up over a little crate. Besides, it was accident. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

Elias glanced at the boy who quickly nodded.

“I-it won’t happen again sir,” the boy squeaked.

“My apologies.” The captain darted his tongue over his suddenly dry lips, swallowing thickly. “My nerves just got the better of me. If you excuse me, I best go check on the rest of the supplies.” He jerked his head towards the fallen crate where a swarm of dockhands instantly gathered around it and heaved it upon their shoulders. 

Elias watched the captain disappear in the crowd of his crew, wincing as he rolled his shoulder. He fought against the urge to smirk and turned towards the boy.

“Are you alright?” Elias asked.

The boy flinched at the gentle voice, nodding, “Yes. Thank you, your highness.” The boy rubbed his arm littered in scabs. “I really didn’t mean to drop the crate. It was just…heavier than I expected it to be.”

Elias tilted his head to the side, lightly patting the boy’s shoulder. A small smile wrinkled the corners of his lips as he eyed the jittery boy pressing his chin deeper against his chest.

“Don’t worry,” Elias said. He bit back a chuckle at the pink simmering beneath the cap. “Soon this day will be far behind you.”

The boy’s jittering ceased as Ingvar strolled up behind Elias. The elder man leaned towards Elias’s shoulder with a cluck of his tongue.

“Speaking of behind us,” he mused bitterly, tilting his chin up at the hill of the dock.

Elias peered up, squinting under the dark sunlight to find silhouettes rummaging down towards the dock. He blinked at the men quickly racing down towards the port they settled at, swarming through the crew of the ship instantly. Elias’s brows knitted together as a voice rumbled behind him, “I hope you don’t mind an extra hand, your majesty.”

The young king frowned, gently patting the young dockhand’s shoulder once more before he scurried off towards the ship. Elias sighed, the wind whistling by him, “King Westerguard.”

He glanced behind him to find the king nodding down at him with a smile. He stepped towards him, eyeing the ship with a smirk curling the corner of his lip.

“Lovely ship,” he said. “You know, my men would be more than happy to bring about one of mine down—”

“Why are you here?”

The king blinked at the abrupt question, noting the faint iciness billowing below the surface of his words. He straightened his shoulders.

“I just wanted to lend my best men for this mission,” King Westerguard said as burly men dressed in the colors of the Southern Isles moved through the ship swiftly. “They’ll do more than their best to make sure you’re…” he gave a tentative glance at the thin man shuffling through papers as he stumbled through the dock. The graying hair lining the bald spot on his head swayed with the rough breeze, making his thick shoulders shudder under the autumn chill. The king forced a smile upon his lips, “…royal regent is in good hands.”

Elias’s frown deepened on his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing a strand of ivory from his eye. “Convenient considering how you stormed out of the meeting when I made my announcement.”

“I really am sorry for that,” the king chuckled weakly. “You truly know how to put an old man to shame in your manners. I’m sure you’re teacher taught you that.”

“Ferdinand will be a fine a representative,” Elias said, his tone hitching on the last word.

King Westerguard raised his eyebrows until his eyes glittered wickedly. Lacing his fingers behind his back, the man towered over Elias with a grin.

“Your highness,” he said smoothly. “If I may be so bold, I’m going to go off on a limb and guess that your sudden _coldness_ to your closest ally has something to do with my nomination of Prince Anders.”

“No.” The corners of Elias’s mouth buried his frown deeper upon his lips. “That was the cause of your _coldness._ ”

“Then I suppose it was your decision that made him speak out of turn?”

Elias’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, drawing out the words through clenched teeth, “You know what you did.”

“Oh,” King Westerguard’s grin flicked up into a smirk. “I was only getting acquainted with my future son. Such a delight he is.”

Something cold in the pit of Elias’s core stirred, slowly creeping through his veins like a viper recognizing its hunger and spotting its prey. Upon reflex, his muscles relaxed; forcing him to breathe evenly.

“We did not discuss the final arrangements of the engagement,” Elias said. “Your talk with him startled him to say the least.”

“Then what do you call overturning his nomination when so many of us voted for him, hmm? It sounds like to me that you’re being a bit too overprotective.”

“As I explained at the meeting, after you left, he is too inexperienced for such a dangerous role.” Elias’s jaw clenched, the iciness starting to creep into his bones. A dash of venom seeped into his words as he absentmindedly snapped, “Knowing your role as a father, I’m sure you understand.”

The elder king’s smirk shriveled into a tight line. He blinked, drumming his fingers along his large arms. King Westerguard sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t mean to pry into personal affairs. He is too young for his own good.” The king swayed his hand back towards the ship. “My offer of men still stands as long as your captain wishes it.”

Before Elias could reply, the captain leaned over the railing of the ship. He cupped his hand around his mouth, shouting, “It’s alright, your majesty! I can always use the extra hands.”

The young king nodded at the captain, then turned back to King Westerguard. “Very well,” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If it will ensure the safety of my regent, then I don’t see why not.”

King Westerguard nodded, clapping the young man’s shoulder. “Glad to see we agree on something,” he chuckled. A ghost of a smirk etched along the outline of the elder king’s lips as he said, “You know, your majesty, you’re right. As a father, I do know the risks of such roles in this world of ours, however,” he leaned closer to Elias, “the prince isn’t really your son, now is he?”

Elias’s muscles tensed under the hand clenching his shoulder. The iciness began clawing at the cage of his chest, nipping at the bone as the man smirked.

“Such…eagerness should be molded to serve you, yet you keep that locked in the confines of your castle.”

Elias’s tongue untangled itself from the darkness looming upon it, forcing out, “It’s just until he’s ready for the world, _your lordship_.”

“Of course.” The man’s chuckling rang through Elias’s ears. “But let me give you this one piece of advice, hmm? A little king to king, father to brother tip.” King Westerguard casted a quick glance at Ingvar’s impending glare, then quickly whispered in a hushed voice, “A bird can only be suffocated for so long before it finally decides to stop breathing itself—or seek the hand of another.”

The iciness pooling within Elias splintered upon his chest, its icy tendrils inches away from erupting from Elias’s fingers when he felt another hand swat the elder king’s away. The large hand was replaced with a cool one that squeezed around his shoulder lightly. The web of ice instantly crept back into the core of Elias’s being, his breath suddenly becoming lighter, as Ingvar nodded to King Westerguard.

“My lord,” Ingvar said smoothly, “any talk of fatherhood is far from my king’s mind right now.” He gave the man a tight smile that failed to reach the smoldering glare in his eyes. “And, last I remember, far from your mind last night, hmm?” King Westerguard flinched, his face growing ashen as a snarl tore across his lips. Ingvar swayed his hand towards the docks. “Now, I’m sure your men are awaiting your final orders. Why don’t you go to see to them?”

King Westerguard ran a hand through his hair, straightening his shoulders before begrudgingly nodding to the two of them. He cleared his throat and stomped down towards the edge of the port.

“Those poor girls of his,” Ingvar clucked his tongue with a shake of his head. “Pity God gave them a behemoth as a father.”

Elias gently shook Ingvar’s hand from his shoulder, running a hand through his wind tousled hair. He ran his hands over his face, groaning, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” he smiled softly, dusting invisible dirt that lingered on Elias’s vest. “That’s what family’s for.”

Elias couldn’t help the twitched of a smile twist across his lips until he brought his head up. He watched from the distance as the ship brought upon its last load of supplies. The ship’s sail rolled down from its mast, the wind catching it in its grasp to flap it wildly among the breeze. Elias vaguely caught an ant like silhouette waving up at him from the ship’s railing before sinking to his knees. The young king chuckled at his mentor’s lack of sea legs and sighed. His gaze lingered on the horizon the ship began to sail into, diving towards the miniscule dot of gold that tried to burn through the dark sky. He watched for a moment longer as the battered cherry wood sliced through filmy gray waters before Ingvar’s hand rested upon his arm.

“It will be fine Elias,” he said. “I’m sure Ferdinand will be able to pass on his knowledge efficiently as he did for you.”

Elias nodded, Ingvar’s voice flying over his ears as King Westerguard’s words echoed in the back of his mind. He sighed deeply and glanced over his shoulder at the castle’s towers scratching at the sky.

Speaking of family, he thought bitterly.

* * *

The grandfather clock’s chimes bounced throughout the castle walls as the shadows crept away from their masters into their land of night. Elias’s frame wandered through the halls, holding a candle in hand to fend off the shadows. His silk draped shoulders slouched while he murmured mindlessly to his self.

His gaze flickered from one portrait on the wall to the next, his murmurs falling silent as he forced his self to turn corner. His lips thinned out as he pushed off the wall towards the hall and swallowed thickly. Elias’s tongue brushed over his dry lips, cursing to his self how dry his tongue instantly became as he stared at the white door before him.

He brought the candle up closer to the door. The soft flames danced over faint outlines of figures in every color crawling up and down the wood. Their presence became washed out from years of paint concealing the door time and time again. Yet, Elias brushed his fingers over a pair of figures scribbled near the center of the door; a pale blue smudge intertwined with a green one with black circles scattered around them.

As the doodles grew clearer in Elias’s consciousness, the candle nearly fell from his fingers. His heart ached at the mirage of a small child scribbling away upon the door, glancing down at the vacant spot beside him where his partner in crime was supposed to be. Elias leaned his forehead against the door, his fingers crumbling the front of his shirt as he breathed heavily. Ice tingled in his palms before he shook them out.

“ _Pull it together, Elias._ ” He snapped at his self, heaving in a deep breath. He sighed and pulled away from the door. Elias lifted his trembling fist, knocking softly on the door with his lungs burning at the breath he refused to let out. His knuckles grazed the wood hesitantly before knocking once more.

“Andy,” he choked out around the knot in his throat. “I…I missed you at dinner. Though I guess it was good that you missed it since Kai made her _famous_ fish mousse,” he chuckled nervously.

The silence stretching between him and the door made him shrink in on his self. He rubbed his arm, his tongue caught in his mouth; absentmindedly counting every moment he let silence dictate his conversations with his brother only for it to end with the two lashing each other with salt slicked words that would start the silent fuse all over again. He shook his head.

Not this time, he thought.

“Andy, I know you…dislike my decision on the regent…and what I’ve discussed with others without you knowing,” he said. He glanced down at his trembling hands to catch the slightest film of ice upon them while soft flakes of snow began to drift through the hall. His teeth gritted together, forcing a blur of words to fall from his lips without him hearing them. After all, it was difficult to hear with a heart screaming in your ears. “I just…you’re…” Elias kept blowing at the strand of hair falling over his eye before pushing it back. His hand leant against the door to support his self. “I—”

Whatever he was going to say froze and shattered instantly, for as his hand pressed his weight onto the wood—the door creaked open. Elias arched an eyebrow, blinking quizzically as he called out, “Andy?”

He boldly, if he didn’t say so his self, stuck his head into the room, bringing the candle into the darkness before him. Elias’s brows knitted together tightly as he stepped forward, squinting through the night drenched room. He stepped over piles of clothes that were thrown from drawers and the occasional crust covered dish left behind on the floor until his leg bumped into the edge of the bed. Elias brought his candle down towards the bundle tucked under the sheets, his fingers tingling as he outlined the frame.

Elias gulped and glanced over his shoulder at the door. The darkness shielded the opened door from view and he sucked in a breath. He leaned closer to the headboard of the bed, not even bothering to brush away the lock of hair that fell over his eyes.

“Andy,” he whispered, his fingers tightening over the edge of the blanket as he peeled it away. His heart clawed at his chest, nearly peeping out over the man’s tongue to glance at the boy beneath the covers. Yet, his heart merely froze, tumbling down the rabbit hole of his being.

Instead of the rat’s nest of golden, red hair, a bundle of pillows stretching from the head of the bed to the bottom greeted him. A cry of the boy’s name caught in his throat until he swallowed it down heavily. He forced his fingers to remain steady around the shaking candle.

Idiot! He screamed to his self. You idiot! How could you not anticipate this?

As Elias let his own words batter at his conscience, his mind carefully sifted through the past week’s events. Whirls of meetings, gentries, papers, and burnt homes flew through his mind until he paused. His memories centered in on the evening’s earlier sequence, zooming in on the docks where a crate was dropped. And on a boy nervously jumping from place to place as he beat his self up for a heavy crate.

“ _Got you._ ”

Elias quickly fled the room, racing through the halls and down the staircase of the palace. Thin slivers of ice skittered across the walls as he zoomed down towards the foyer where a set of guards were marching through. One of them arched an eyebrow at the jittery king, shifting his baton under his arm.

“Your majesty?” He asked, his voice caught beneath his thick mustache. “What are doing up at this hour? It’s awfully late and…”

He trailed off, catching the flickering steely fire beneath ice, blue irises. He gulped as the deadly glare faltered once more and the king’s mouth moved.

“I need to go.”

The guard blinked, turning to his companion who merely shook his head.

“Your highness,” the man started, “I don’t understand—”

“Go!” The harshness in Elias’s voice made the guards jump. The king sensed this and heaved in a breath. “I need to go to the docks. _Now._ ”

“A-alright,” the guard swallowed dryly. “Just let me gather your party and—”

“No.” Elias tightened the shawl around his arms. “You two are sufficient.” He nudged by the guards, stomping towards the back doors of the palace that led out to the sea.

The two guards snapped out of their daze, quickly racing after the young king with barely lit lanterns. The autumn air whirled by the three wildly as soon as they stepped outside, yet as the guards fought to suppress their shivers, Elias’s flesh brushed off the coolness with a darker cold of his own. The three weaved through the dock houses and ships dotting along the bay of the fjord until they came to a tavern at the end of the ports. Elias’s eyes narrowed at the wavering sign that creaked on its hinges.

“You two stay here,” Elias ordered.

“But your majesty,” the guards protested until a wave of snowflakes fluttered from Elias’s hand. Their words lumped into their throats.

“I’m a king, not helpless.” Elias replied, heaving the tavern door open.

He slipped into the small hut as a wave of liquor and rotten fish greeted his nose. The jolting waves of voices and energy instantly fell silently at the arctic chill that teased their bones. Elias felt a hundred pairs of eyes burn into him weakly as he sighed, the temperature growing warm once more. The young king weaved through the scattered tables and chairs overflowing with men, talking in hushed voices. He scanned through the crowd of people, silently cursing to his self until he turned to the bar at the back of the tavern. The man settled in front of the bar jumped, quickly bowing his head.

“Y-your majesty!” He stumbled, the glass cup in his hand nearly dropping to the floor. The others at the bar shied away from the ivory haired man, feeling bitter iciness emitting from him. The man behind the bar cleared his throat, feebly asking, “What brings you here my—”

“I’m looking for a boy.” Elias snapped. “Barely eighteen; thin, no muscle; tattered shirt and trousers; wearing a gray cap.” The man flinched at the unkempt tone spilling from his majesty’s words when Elias blinked and breathed in deeply. He sighed, gentler than last, “Have you seen him at all?”

The man’s shoulders slumped, scratching the back of his head as he squinted through the room. His eyes widened as he nodded his head to the back corner of the tavern. Elias turned around; his heart skipping a beat at the boy nestled in the corner.

“Kid’s been here since the last ship left dock.” The man said. He wrinkled his slanted nose. “Not a pretty drinker either.”

Elias nodded towards the man before storming to the back of the tavern. The prying eyes of the men were blocked off from the icy storm in his mind. He soon came to the back corner where the boy gulped down another mug of ale. The mug skittered along the table as he hiccupped meekly, barely noting the shadow that towered over him. The boy glanced up from under his cap and flinched at the man glowering at him.

“Y-your highness!” He croaked, his voice slurred as he shifted uneasily in his seat. “What are you doing here?”

Elias remained silent, glancing at the endless sea of small glasses that stretched into large mugs scattered over the table. Drops of water clung onto the sides of the small glasses while thin pool of amber lingered in the larger mugs. Had it not been for the stony mask Elias wore, his eye would have twitched.

“So,” He drew his glare back down on the boy, chuckling darkly, “this is where you go when your plans don’t work out, huh?”

The boy’s brows furrowed beneath the cap. “I’m sorry?”

“Where do you go to next?” Elias continued, a dark tinge mingling in his voice. “To your ice mistress? Or even better—a _brothel_.”

“Your highness,” the boy flinched, shrinking against the corner of the tavern. His cheeks flushed. “I-I don’t understand—”

“ _Enough!_ ”

Elias’s fists slammed against the table, his bark devouring the voices of in the tavern. The boy swore his heart leapt out of his chest, wishing for the tattered scarf around his neck to swallow him whole. The men in the tavern ogled at the corner as Elias leaned over the boy. His icy eyes narrowed dangerously low as he hissed, “Get up.”

The boy blinked, his mouth opening to ask a question when the man snatched his arm. The boy bit back a hiss as his fingers twisted his arm firmly and drew him close to him.

“When we get back, rest assured you will _never_ leave the palace grounds again.” Elias hissed, wringing the boy’s arm for emphasis. He ignored the strangled cry and continued, “You will _never_ leave the palace walls. You will _never_ converse with anyone outside. You will _never_ do anything asides from attending to your duties.” Elias’s glare deepened on the gray cap as the boy whimpered, trying to shield his self away from the man. Elias’s teeth gritted, his free hand whipping out towards the cap. “ _And no more disguises!_ ”

He yanked the cap from the boy’s head and felt his blood run colder than ice. A set of unruly, red hair tumbled from under the cap, cupping the freckled cheeks of the boy. Elias’s breath caught in his throat as he stared into dark _brown_ orbs. Elias felt his knees buckle, shakily peeling his fingers from the boy’s arm. The boy cradled his arm to his chest, nervously staring at the young king who staggered back. Elias ran a hand through his hair, his lungs clawing for air that he forgot he needed.

“H-how,” he gasped, his breathing growing hectic as he gawked at the boy. “You—you’re not—I…” Elias’s hands trembled, his body dumping its weight against an abandoned table behind him. He shook his head, tangling his fingers through his hair. “This…how you let this happen!”

The boy flinched, bringing his arms up to his face as the man brought his hand up. Yet, slam was delivered to the wall. The boy blinked at the young king, startled as he watched him slowly unravel with each murmur growing into a yell.

“You idiot.” Elias cursed, staring at his hands that began to swirl with the rest of the world. “You _fucking_ idiot!” The men in the tavern held their breaths, watching their stone faced king come apart with each batter of his words. Elias slammed his shoulder against the wall, his nails biting into his palms as his rambles went on. “ _Stupid king! Stupid king is what you are!_ ”

The boy forced his trembling at bay and tentatively reached out towards Elias. At the violent twitch of his shoulder, he drew back, coughing forcefully into his hand.

“Y-your highness?” The boy asked. “Is this about what happened at the docks?”

Elias’s mouth froze in his rant against his self and spared a glance at the boy. His heart swelled instantly and he forced his gaze down at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Elias breathed, shaking his head. “I thought you were…someone else.” Elias’s gaze shifted over the startled eyes of the tavern and bowed his head at the boy. “Please forgive my behavior.”

The boy shook his head, his tongue catching along the dip upon his upper lip.

“I,” he started uneasily. “I didn’t see anyone unfamiliar in the crew, save for the Southern Isles men.” His lips thinned out. “But…”

“But, what?” Elias brought his head up to him. He fought against the urge to shake the boy to cough out what he was going to say, knowing he had already crossed one too many boundaries tonight.

The boy rubbed his arm.

“It’s probably nothing, really.”

The boy flinched at the cold hand propped against his shoulder. He stared into wild eyes as Elias gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Please.”

The boy gulped, shifting where he stood.

“The crate I was handling really wasn’t that heavy,” he started. “I carry those crates all the time, but this one was supposed to be filled with whisky for the Northerners and much heavier than usually.” The boy paused, licking his lips. “So of course I dropped it, but when it fell, the crate…”

Elias’s fingers dug into the boy’s shoulder mercilessly, leaning closer to him.

“What? The crate what?” He rasped.

The boy darted his gaze around the room, the pair of icy orbs burning into him until he met them again. He sighed at the waves of anger and worry stormed beneath the king’s eyes.

“When I dropped the crate…it groaned.”


	11. Chapter 10

Andy’s arms wrapped around his stomach, groaning as the darkness swirled around him. His head scratched against the wooden walls of the crate, breathing deeply.

I hate ships, he thought to his self, hiccuping on the bile churning in his belly once the ship jerked forward. He pressed further against the head of the crate where a small hole was cut in, catching pale slivers of light that barely fluttered below deck. Andy’s lips thinned out, tucking his head in his arms.

“To think I could be sleeping in a comfy bed right now,” he mumbled.

A flint of guilt pierced the whirl of nausea roiling through him at the thought of home. He nibbled on his bottom lip, reminiscing of Georg’s constant nagging as he disappeared into his library of dust covered books; of Svena’s playful head buts that left his ribcage feeling sore for weeks; and of golden brown eyes that narrowed intently on cutting through a block of ice, sparing him a smile whenever she caught him staring at her for too long. At that thought, Andy felt his mouth run dry.

“She’s so going to kill me,” he groaned, shifting around in the crate uneasily. His back knocked against the wood with each twist as if the crate was slowly constricting him. He huffed and plopped his chin on his arms. “If this crate doesn’t kill me first.”

Andy yelped as the crate slid, clacking against the other wooden crates beside him. His head banged against the top of the crate and hissed. The boy buried his chin in his arms, squinting at the sliver of light fading quickly. The deep rocks of the ship combined with the darkness veiling the lower deck made Andy’s eyelids grow heavy until drowsiness seeped through his limbs.

 _A little snooze never killed anyone_ , he thought drifting off into squeaking silence. Andy carefully curled his legs to the edge of the crate, a slight snore tickling the back of his throat as an hour passed. Yet, the hefty slam of door that shattered the carefully weaved peace jerked Andy from his slumber. He shook his head, blinking the last web of sleep from his eyes as voices began to speak.

“—should be in here.” A cabin mate whispered, shuffling through the storage room. “Captain always keeps the best of it here.”

Andy swallowed thickly, catching the faint shadows that were darker than the rest of the room. A pair of boots stomped past the crate Andy was in, mumbling under his breath as he shifted through the crate of bottles. A grin split across the cabin mate’s face, pulling out a bottle of black liquor from the crate and turning towards his companion.

“Found it!” he breathed, giving a quick peck on the side of the dusty bottle. “ _Licorice Bermuda_ , the rum even gods envy.” He plucked the cork from the top of the bottle, taking a large swig from it. The rim of the bottle popped from his lips, a giddy grin hiccupping over his lips as he plopped down onto the crate Andy was in. The boy’s muscles cringed, sucking in a sharp breath while the cabin mate gulped noisily.

The cabin mate licked the corners of his lips and tilted the bottle to his companion, who took a small sip.

“Bet you don’t have this in the Southern Isles,” The cabin mate laughed, whipping his greasy hair from his eyes.

Andy’s shoulders hunched at the low groan coming from the other. The man smacked his lips, humming, “I suppose not. This puts a real fire in your belly unlike ours.”

“You know it!” the cabin mate snatched the bottle from the other’s hand, gulping down the liquor eagerly.

Soft banter between the two flittered past Andy’s eardrums as he kept as still as possible until King Westerguard’s man asked, “How far away from the storm are we?”

The cabin mate paused his gulping, belching lowly, “Well off.” He scratched the thick stubble on his chin adding, “And even if it did hit, Roanne could still take it head on.”

“Of course.” The man nodded, watching the other quietly. The man tapped his side, asking, “Where exactly did your captain get this liquor from?”

The cabin mate’s Adam’s apple bobbed, licking his lips as his lips twisted in thought. He shrugged, “Barlina. Just north of here.”

“I see.”

The man’s fingers wrapped around the hilt of his waist, yanking out a blade from its sheath. The blade twinkled weakly under the frail light as it cut through the air to meet the cabin mate’s throat. The other gasped, a mixture of the liquor and his blood burning the back of his throat. He gurgled weakly, clawing at his neck as he stumbled forward. The man flicked the blade in the air, the crimson dotting its edge flinging off onto the other crates, and slid it back in its sheath.

Andy’s teeth buried themselves in his tongue at the thud of the cabin mate’s body while the man lazily plucked the bottle from his hand. As he turned on his heel, the man brought the bottle to his lips, chuckling lowly, “Thanks for the tip.”

Andy pressed his hand hard on his mouth, his fingers digging into his cheeks as the cabin mate choked quietly beside him. His hands trembled, catching the silent cry falling from his mouth until the doors crashed open again. Footsteps thundered through the room, causing Andy to shrink deeper into the crate as the men tore through the crates.

“Throw these _‘gifts’_ overboard!” a voice snapped.

The men heaved the crates in the room over their shoulders as they raced in and out of the room. Andy choked back on a yelp as his crate was lifted up, and jerked roughly. The crate was thrown carelessly around by the men, making the bile in Andy’s stomach roar to life until fresh sea salt drifted through the cracks of the crate—along with fresh copper.

Andy buried his head into his arms, gulping back the bile with as much force as he could muster. He forced his breaths to be even as splashes grew louder in his ear drums. Just as the lull of endless splashing fell in tune to his raging heartbeat, the men carrying his crate stumbled forward. The crate clattered onto the deck, the wood splitting over the hole as Andy groaned. The widened hole, just around the size of his fist, revealed the men keeling over as the captain swung a spare board in the air.

The captain beat the backs of the men with a roar of curses. The rest of the men quickly huddled around the captain, snapping his arm free of the board until he was locked in their grasps. He yanked weakly at their burly grips as another man approached him.

“You just couldn’t stay down could you?” the man snarled, wiping a rivulet of blood from his brow with the back of his sleeve. He pointed the edge of his sword at the captain’s chest.

The captain mirrored the snarl, spitting out, “No one takes my ship.”

The man’s snarl twitched into a smirk, burrowing the dark scar around left eye into a broken star shape. “Funny seeing how we just did.” He jerked his head over to his other men tossing bodies over board. “This should teach your monster not to cross our king.”

“He’s _no_ monster!” The captain snaps, jerking towards the man only to double over the large fist buried against his stomach.

The man clucked his tongue with a roll of his eyes. “You Arendelle folk _are_ sick in the head.” The captain growled under his breath, spitting at the man’s face. The man’s snarl returned as he wiped the spit from his cheek. He brought the sword back into its sheath. “Throw the rest overboard, but keep this one!” He grabbed the captain’s cheeks and hissed, “You’re gonna wish you went down with the rest of your crew.”

The captain felt another burst of pain creep across his side as he was dragged away, shuddering at the heavy splashes that resumed. Andy’s stomach coiled, pressing his self deeper against the crate. His mouth opened and closed, his voice itching to shout yet clung to his windpipe.

 _The king probably didn’t give them orders to spare royalty on the ship._ Fear murmured in the back of Andy’s mind. Before he could retort, the crate was lifted up again. Andy’s heart gripped onto his uvula, the reckless swinging of the crate not helping him the slightest. His lips moved absentmindedly, whispering every prayer he could think of until the feeling of arms fell away. _I’m free. I’m free!_ Then gravity’s hands snatched him away.

The crate crashed into the water, the waves bobbing around it becoming mere sloshes compared to the cheering thundering from the ship and the boy’s raging pulse. Andy gasped, sucking in a deep breath as salt water flooded the crate—dragging it deeper into its dark belly. Andy tumbled against the crate, jerking against the amorphous arms and firm wooden back around him. The boy’s lungs burned as he squinted up at the quickly fading hands of light that stretched down to him through the cracks of the crate.

Andy’s heart skipped a beat, his fingers blindly patting for his waist until they caught around the hook of a pouch. He dug through the satchel, lungs beginning to knock on his chest, and yanked a small dagger into view. The boy pushed his self up towards the head of the crate, digging the dagger into its edges. The blade silently sawed through the wood, jerking hectically as the light grew dimmer and dimmer.

 _Come on._ The pressure building in his chest slowly began to pry Andy’s lips open. _Come on!_

The dagger suddenly split through the top of the crate, and Andy slammed his head and arms against it. The top of the crate broke away, drifting through the waters aimlessly as Andy’s body squirmed towards the surface. The pushed away from the crate only to feel a tug around his neck; he glanced down and felt his heart sink at the corner of his cloak caught onto the crate. His fingers dug into the cloak, yanking at the bottom of the fabric only to feel it grow more tangled. Salt stung the boy’s eyes as he fumbled with the clasp around his neck. Jerking the golden metal off, Andy’s arms pushed through the water; leaving his anchor to sink without him. Andy squirmed and swished through the water, squinting at the glowing halo of light just above the surface. His heart swelled in his chest as he broke the surface of the water, heaving in a deep breath.

Then his heart dropped deeper than the crate was drifting off to.

Rain drops whipped across Andy’s cheeks as the waves roared around him, flinging him about like a ragdoll. A wave crashed over Andy, pressing back under mercilessly until he broke through again. The boy spat out the salt water, a bitter tart of salt clawing at his tongue as another wave pushed him back down again. Andy’s arms frantically splashed through the water, gasping every chance he could until he wrapped his arms around a spare board. His nails scratched across the wood as the wind howled by his ears, no doubt blowing them out.

Andy’s body trembled uncontrollably, squinting through his matted hair to see endless black waves beating one another. He gulped, tightening his self around the board until a spark of light crashed through the darkness drowning him. The boy felt his heart freeze, listening to the echoing crackle thunder behind him. He twisted his head to the side, watching as the waves climbed towards the sky; the flickering edges of their mass growing sharp like teeth all the while the lightning in the distance reflecting menacing eyes. Andy eyes clenched shut, weaving his whole torso to the board as the jaws of the ocean crashed down on him.

And let nothing, but shadows whisk him to a foreign night.


	12. Chapter 11

A brutal chill had settled onto Arendelle, infesting the wind and crops with an unnerving shadow. The villagers walked with a small sprint in their step and an eye glancing over their shoulder as they went through their days—all noting how the singed earth around the fallen seasonal pole seemed to creep away from the market square little by little. Almost, some villagers would say, inching towards the shore where the sun would rise and set—almost as if it were waiting. Though what it would be waiting for, none wished to say.

The wind howled lowly through the village up to the castle, winding around the brick walls to whistle through the windows. Ingvar’s lips thinned out, his eyes glowering at the gray clouds strolling overhead. A soft, feather light touch of snow pecked his bare shoulder and he sighed deeply.

“You know, there have been rumors spreading.,” he said, bunching the sleeves of his dress shirt around his arms; keeping it from completely sliding off. “About the prince going missing because he’s run off like a coward, or worse yet a spy selling secrets to the enemy until he bit off too much that he could chew,” Ingvar chuckled humorlessly, staring out the window with a stony expression as he turned around to add, “ _And_ , that before their worthless prince fled, he poisoned their king with a sickness only the Draugen could brew. What do you think of that?”

Ingvar arched an eyebrow at the bed, ice spiking around its wall and the floor around it as the man tangled in the torn sheets gasped for breath. His pale chest heaved deeply, an arm draped over his face as heat pumped through his veins. The sheet clung around his long legs, barely covering over the other’s manhood. “Have you been poisoned?”

Elias’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took, his eyes locked on the web of ice that splintered across the ceiling.

“I was poisoned before I was even born.” He murmured, watching the crackling ice hiss under his gaze.

“And your ‘worthless’ brother?”

Elias’s eyes shot a bitter glare at the man across the room, his eyes narrowing as he growled, “Shut. Up.”

Ingvar chuckled, falling back on the bed. “And here I thought I finally unwound you.” His fingers played with sweat slicked ivory locks clinging to Elias’s temples, running through the tangled mess while humming quietly.

“You’re overreacting, you know that right?” Ingvar murmured, sinking his head into the pillows. A gust of feathers plumed from the torn fabric, weaving across the bed like snow and onto Elias’s chest.

The young king frowned, scoffing slightly, “It’s my job to overreact.”

“The ship’s been gone for less than a month. You know it takes almost two months after to hear word so soon—especially when travelling to the North.”

“And it only takes a second for a pirate to decide which artery his knife will journey through first.”

“I’m sure his royal name will carry some protection.”

“As much as a measly piece of paper does as a shield to a fleet of soldiers.” Elias rolled onto his side, staring up at Ingvar. His voice broke into a whisper. “Blood is blood no matter where it sheds. You know that better than anyone.”

The frown on Ingvar’s mouth deepened as he brushed the stray lock of hair from Elias’s eyes.

“Unfortunately so do you,” he sighed, resting his hand on the nape of Elias’s neck. He pressed his forehead against the younger’s. “But as stubborn as that boy is, he’s somehow bound to come back be it broken or not.”

Elias curled up against the man and rested his chin on the other’s shoulder. Elias closed his eyes, inhaling the winter cress scent emitting from his skin. Ingvar’s hands slowly inched down Elias’s back, pulling him closer until their heartbeats echoed into the other’s chest. Elias bit back a groan as fingers left thin trails of frost down his flesh, slowly circling over his coccyx.

“Stop that,” Elias ordered weakly, his voice caught between another groan and a squeeze of the other’s fingers.

“Stop what?” Ingvar asked with a smirk as the man shivered against his arms. His teeth nipped Elias’s ear, suckling on the tender flesh idly as he whispered, “As much as I enjoy taking your frustrations,” he shifted his leg between Elias’s despite the stinging pain trekking up his lower back. Ingvar slipped his hands right under Elias’s rear and rolled them over, his body hovering over Elias’s like a second skin. “I believe it’s my turn.”

Pink dusted Elias’s cheeks, absentmindedly arching his back to meet the other’s sculpted frame like a puzzle. “I hate it when you do that.” Elias mumbled under his breath, tearing his gaze from the snowy, gray orbs staring down at him.

“Do what?” Ingvar purred, slipping his tongue out to trace a patch of scarred flesh on the young king’s neck.

Elias sucked in a harsh breath, silently cursing at the moan that slipped out of him. “When you make me forget.”

Ingvar hummed against his throat, sending a shiver running down Elias spine. He tangled his fingers in Elias’s hair, smirking, “Forget what?”

Suddenly, Ingvar winced as his neck was yanked back by icy fingers. As ice dug into his skin, the man stared into dark blue irises bleeding out into the whites of Elias’s eyes while a sharp flint of icy blue sharpened along his pupil. Elias’s eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare while Ingvar’s smirk widened.

“Alright, you win.” Ingvar said, cupping Elias’s cheeks in his hands. His smirk softened into a smile as the man’s eyes shifted back into their original soft blue hue. Elias flushed, his grip shakily releasing Ingvar’s neck when Ingvar pulled his arms back around him. “Don’t.” Elias blinked as his arms wove themselves around Ingvar’s neck again. The former regent dusted Elias’s cheek with a chaste kiss, whispering breathlessly, “I taught you so well.”

“Not quite.” Elias groaned, pushing his hips up into Ingvar’s as his lips brushed over his. “Teach me more.”

With a low growl rumbling from the back of his throat, Ingvar lips devoured the young king’s. The last inkling of sheets clinging to the two fell from their bucking frames. A soft snowfall began falling from the ice glazed over the ceiling over the bed until a sharp knock pierced the air. Ingvar sighed deeply, forcing every nerve of his body to remain still while Elias groaned.

“Your highness!” a voice behind the door called.

“ _Yes?_ ” Elias growled through gritted teeth; an alien heat causing his limbs to ache under Ingvar’s touch—just inches from grasping him.

“A letter from your regent has arrived.”

Elias’s heart skipped a beat, carefully peeling Ingvar from his frame. The two reluctantly pulled away from each other while Elias quickly snatched a robe from the side of the bed. Quickly tugging it over his shoulders, Elias opened the door to find his messenger—tightly bundled his windswept furs—jittering in front of him. The messenger’s eyes widened, glancing at the barely fitted robe flung onto Elias’s shoulders and quickly handed him a tattered letter.

“I-I thought you’d want to see it immediately,” the messenger, stuttered. “Please excuse my intrusion, your majesty.”

Elias grasped the letter from the man, waving his hand as if dismissing the statement. “No, thank you for getting this to me so soon.” The young king bowed his head at the messenger, oblivious to the faint flush on the man’s face as he scurried off.

Elias closed the door behind him, his fingers tearing through the weather beaten envelope. He tore the letter out, icy blue eyes scanning through the scrawled script before his eyes widened. He fell against the back of the door, sliding to the floor. Ingvar rose from the bed and knelt beside Elias.

“Elias?” Ingvar arched an eyebrow, watching as the letter crumbled in Elias’s hand. Elias’s fingers buried themselves in his hair, his lips set in a firm line as he chewed on his thumb nail. Ingvar gently tugged the letter from Elias’s grasp and felt his heart drop. He scanned through the letter, rescanned it, then scanned it again until he murmured breathlessly, “How?”

* * *

_“Can you hear it?” he asked._

_Golden brows knitted together as the boy stared up at the man. “Hear what?”_

_“The song.” The man chuckled, pulling the boy close to him. “The wind is singing the song.”_

_The boy blinked up at the man quizzically as he placed him on his lap. The man rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder, the boy fighting against the giggle on his tongue as his mustache tickled his cheek._

_“Now, close your eyes,” the man said. The boy closed his eyes, sneaking a glance up at the man until he replied, “No peeking.”_

_Huffing, the boy closed his eyes. The man smiled softly, bringing his hands to cover the boy’s ears. He pressed his lips against his hands, murmuring softly, “Listen.”_

_The boy sighed, feeling the wind caress his face with an icy nip to his nose. The world rumbled beneath the man’s hands, almost speaking in a foreign tongue until the wind whistled by his fingers and left a ringing to dance through the boy’s ears. A soft, fragile jingle made the boy gasp lightly, the ringing growing louder and clearer the harder he clenched his eyes._

_“Can you hear it now?” The man’s voice began to dissolve into the wind, tattering between calm to yearning. “Can you hear it?”_

_Before the boy could respond, the voice of the wind came to an abrupt halt as one voice rang in the air with an eerie chill that made the boy’s blood run cold._

**_**“Can you hear me now, Andy?”** _ **

Andy violently jerked up with a gasp, gagging on grains of silt that had wandered into his mouth. The boy groaned as he sat up, his chest burning at the air that filled his lungs. He blinked the haziness from his eyes until he the mosaic of the world settled into his gaze. Monstrous storm clouds thundered over the black sea that lapped at his sodden boots. He squinted up at the clouds greedily devouring the sun, letting pale streaks of light dribble onto the shoreline.

Andy carefully turned around to find rocks scattered behind him, growing sharper and bulkier with every passing stone along with thick trees jutting towards the sky. His fingers scratched against the spare board he had floated on pressing deeply into the sediment when his breath hitched at the back of his throat. He snapped his head back towards the ocean to find the darkened sky mingled with the horizon.

The boy’s heart sank, warmth stinging the back of his eyes, and dropped his head onto his knees. The waves silently caressed the sole of his boots as if trying to comfort the prince. Time would have stretched on like that forever for the boy until the wind whirled by him. Andy hissed, gripping his arms only to feel the chill seep through his sleeves. He glanced down, shivering at the sight of his attire completely drenched.

“Perfect,” Andy huffed, peeling a shred of seaweed frozen from his shirt. He looked toward at the hill of rocks running behind him with an extra crack of thunder sending his feet flying towards the forest.

Snatching the board from the ground, Andy stumbled over the rocks. As he entered the forest, he shuddered at the sloshing each step he took made—the chill of the air lapping at his goose bump littered flesh eagerly. He marched through the thick brushwood, stumbling over a loose branch or stone. Andy felt his skin prickle at the rustles shaking above in the trees and felt his stomach twist as the light from the sun grew dimmer and dimmer.

The earth seemed to swallow Andy’s steps as the hours went by, day quickly losing itself in night. Andy blindly stumbled forward, feeling along the towering trees. He trembled with each step, gulping the bitter, musky air. In the darkness Andy finally leaned back against a trunk. Breathing heavily, he stared up at the tree branches tightly intertwined like a cage from the sky itself. He groaned, running a muddied hand over his face.

Andy forced his gaze back onto the leaf scattered path before him. He stepped forward and winced, choking on a cry as he tumbled to the ground. Pain seared through his ankle as he tossed through the large pool tree leaves. His eyes widened at the bear trap firmly clasped around his ankle—its rusted teeth glaring at him in the darkness. Andy leaned in, carefully pulling at the metal bars to no avail

The pain spread through his muscle faster, tears paving clean streaks down his cheeks until a rustling shifted closer towards him. Andy’s heart leapt into his mouth at the small balls of orange light piercing through the shadows. Andy’s heartbeat roared in his ears as the voices and calls grew louder, breaking through the walls of brushwood and fallen trees to erupt in full. Andy stared up at ogling men whose gaze was instantly drawn to the bear trap encasing the boy’s bloody ankle.

“God damn it!” One of them snarled, a snarl revealing several broken teeth.

The torches came together, hoarding around Andy with the same disgusted expression as the first did until a stomp came from behind them all. A man with dark mauve paste smeared down his cheek thundered from the group behind them, his black eyes smoldering. His eyes trailed down Andy to the bear trap before asking lowly, “What happened?”

The first of the men pointed Andy with the end of his knife. “This piece of shit cost us dinner!”

Andy winced as the men growled in unison. A series of clanks of knifes and blades being unsheathed caused Andy to shudder, the pain of the bear trap long gone under the winking of the blades.

“Let’s eat him then,” one exclaimed. “He’s got some meat on them.”

It hurt to breathe for Andy, one voice rallying to another to tear him apart until the man with the mauve markings stepped into the circle. His black eyes glittered something beneath them as Andy shrunk into his shoulders. The man jerked the boy’s chin up to him and asked, “Why are you in my woods?”

Andy’s tongue worked to untangle itself, tripping over the heart that wanted to race from the boy’s chest. The man’s greasy fingers brushed over Andy’s chin before diving down to wrap around his throat.

“I said why the _hell_ are you in my woods?”

Andy gasped, his windpipe being crushed under the man’s hand.

“P-passing by,” Andy stuttered out, sweat lapping down his skin.

The man clucked his tongue, rolling his neck until a smirk crossed his lips. He plucked a strand of hair hanging raggedly on the boy’s scalp. “Around here, it’s a sorry crime to ruin a man’s meal.” Andy gulped as the man leaned closer to him. The man’s bulky nose was inches from Andy’s face, fanning him with sour air while the man tightened his grip around his neck. At a closer space, Andy’s skin crawled. The mauve paste lines running under the man’s left eye was still fresh and flowing freely down his square jaw.

Andy gulped as the man yanked him to his feet, causing the metal of the bear trap to tear deeper into Andy’s ankle. The man shook Andy forcefully to his other comrades with a devious smirk outlining his blackened molars.

“Seems as though we’ve cut ourselves a mutt gentlemen,” the man bellowed, grinning madly. “Let’s have a little fun with this fresh meat!”

The near unanimous cheer that answered him made Andy’s stomach clench painfully. The man turned to Andy, chuckling at the ashen flush that seeped through his face. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, so quiet only Andy could hear, “I’ll be sure to break in nice and easy.”

As the man chuckled on, a screech tore from his throat. The rest of the men gawked at the boy sinking his teeth into the man’s hand. The man snarled, pulling his free hand back and swiped it across the boy’s face. Andy collapsed on the ground at the sharp crack that met his cheek, his head spinning as the other men leapt onto him. Andy thrashed and writhed under the men clawing at him while the leader spat at the ground.

“Hold ‘im down!” Andy’s thrashing grew more frantic as the men pinned him to the ground. Tears rimmed the edge of Andy’s eyes, watching their leader droop down in front of him. The other men jerked Andy’s legs apart, yanking at the ties of his trousers, as the man nestled his self between Andy. As Andy cried louder, another crack slammed against his cheek. The darkness melded with flickers of orange swam together in the swirl of Andy’s spinning gaze, his mind barely registering the goose bumps flaring down his bare thighs.

An icy burn pressed against Andy as the man hissed, “ _Now fucking scream mutt_ —”

An earsplitting scream shattered the man’s sentence—yet, to his surprise was not from the boy beneath him. One of the men pulled away from Andy, clenching his hands over his eyes as he stumbled away. Suddenly, another man reared away from Andy; his hand grabbing his arm as he fell from them. The man’s brows furrowed, leaning away from Andy while each of his men collapsed.

“What the hell?” he gasped, his eyes widening as he saw them writhing with their screams echoing throughout the woods.

The man’s heart skipped a beat as one of his men crumbled along the ground, clawing at his neck desperately. The flesh around his neck instantly swelled to a dark purple until flints of frost began to rise up and infest the skin. The fellow man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he dropped to the ground, the frost cutting through his jugular.

Andy’s mouth gaped, a scream frozen on his tongue as he and the man watched the others writhe until the ice crept up through their limbs or eyes; as if the ice were devouring them from the inside out. The man finally pulled his self up, wincing as his vision blurred. Andy jumped back at the sheen of frost creeping through the man’s eyes, his screams making his bones shudder. The frost quickly broke through his fingers, ravaging the marred flesh with a burn of its own until the man toppled forward. Black eyes, now gray and empty, stared through Andy who cradled his self up by the tree behind him.

The boy listened to the man’s weak cries until a crunch met his ears. Andy looked up, his body trembling as a shadow stomped through the abandoned torches scattered along the ground. A sheet of frost skated out from the figure’s feet as he walked closer towards Andy. Andy turned away, wrapping his arms around his self tighter. The footsteps took place of his heartbeat while each step thundered louder in his ears until—

“Are you alright?”

Andy and the world froze. The words slowly sinking into his mind as he inched his head up. A hooded figure stared down at him, tilting its head to the side. Andy blinked at the creature before him until a scream erupted into the air. Andy’s lungs burned in relief at the scream falling from his lips. A gloved hand quickly slapped over Andy’s mouth even as the boy continued to scream into the weathered leather. The figure brought a finger to its lips, gently shushing Andy until his screams slowly died down. Andy panted heavily, his dried tongue dusting over his flaking lips as the figure pulled its hand away. The hooded figure glanced over its shoulder, the shadows masking the frown on its face.

Andy trailed over the frozen bodies scattered on the ground, the ice still creeping over the men even after they took their last breath. His heart twanged at the empty eyes staring into the darkness as the figure’s voice rumbled, “You shouldn’t feel sorry for them. They wouldn’t for you.”

Andy winced, the figure’s eyes trained onto him intently. Andy swallowed around the knot in his throat while the figure tilted its head at him again.

“You’re cold.”

Andy jumped out of his daze, ogling the figure. The white hood stretched over the figure’s face, racing down its shoulders to fall into black swirls that fanned out around them. Andy squinted at the shadow covered face until a black gloved hand stretched out towards him. The boy shot the figure an arched an eyebrow.

“If I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t even feel it,” the figure said. “Unless you have somewhere else to go.”

Andy swallowed down any questions, moving to take the figure’s hand only to trip forward. The bear trap was embedded into Andy’s ankle, letting his blood trail down its mouth. The figure leaned forward, its fingers wrapping around the bear trap’s jaws. Andy gawked at the metal jaws being yanked apart like paper while the figure turned back to him. The figure’s arms curled under Andy’s torso and bare legs, lifting him up against him. Andy yelped, clinging onto the figure desperately as a bitter chill whipped around them.

 _What are you doing?_ Andy chastised his self. _As soon as you get the chance run! You can’t trust—_

As the wind blew, the figure’s hood fell onto his shoulders and caused every nerve in Andy’s body to freeze. A pale face seeming to be sculpted from ice itself stared ahead, a frail scar trailing from the edge of his eye to his jaw like a jagged smile. Andy’s breath hitched at the back of his throat, staring up into ice, blue eyes—eyes he grew up yearning for everyday.

_Elias?_


	13. Chapter 12

Pain rippled through Andy’s veins, his stomach twisting into knots as he ogled his ankle. A dressing of cloth was wrapped firmly around the swollen flesh. Red flares blossomed beneath the tattered fabric, sprouting from the deep gouges rooted through his skin. Andy shuddered, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders tighter around him only to wince at the spark of pain shooting up his leg. Andy’s teeth grinded against each other, breathing heavily, until a cool tingle washed away the pain. He blinked down at the small block of ice settled around his ankle that slowly crept around the wound to seep through the dressing.

The gentle chill tickled the deep ridges ringed around his ankle, almost massaging the puckered flesh beneath the layers of cloth. Andy sighed, his eyelids growing heavy as fatigue gnawed at his bones, yet as darkness inched around him the boy shook his head with a jolt. He swatted at the thin layer of ice on his ankle through gritted teeth and rocking into the blanket around him slowly.

“You know,” Andy jumped at the young man’s voice, tearing his gaze from the ground up. The wind whistled along the rocks of the cave they were in, the thick tree debris and vines creeping along the cavern walls. Andy squinted at the miniscule fire crackling in the center of the cave, its orange hands painting the doppelganger’s face alight with warmth and a twinkle in his eyes. The white cloak laid under the man’s frame as he stoked the flames with a twig, his gaze trained on the embers greedily lapping at the shadows around it. “Straining to stay awake defeats the purpose of finding shelter.”

Andy blinked, his lips thinning into a firm frown as he glanced away. His arms crossed over his chest. The young man brought the twig from the fire, watching the dark, bloody orange bleed into the bark.

“It’s quite odd,” he said, the embers glowing weakly along the bark, “how easy it is for light to be devoured in an instant when it lays with night.” He gently blew at the bark, the embers instantly going out into a haze of smoke. “But then again, so does the dark when it lays with day.”

Andy’s brows furrowed, ogling the man as he murmured, “What?”

The man glanced at Andy with a blank stare then brought his gaze back to the fire. His twig stirred the embers of the flames idly.

“Just murmuring,” he shrugged, the fire cracking under the twig.

Andy squirmed against his corner of the cavern, his fingers rolling the brittle strands of the blanket in his hand. Andy forced his self to look at the young man and felt his stomach twist. The man was a hand taller than him, his skin drinking in the glow of the orange flames to glimmer a paleness that was sickeningly beautiful. Andy’s eyes trailed down the man’s face; chiseled, yet cracked by time’s hands. The jagged scar lacing his cheek scrunched along his jaw with every twitch of his mouth while his icy eyes stayed locked onto the fire before it could leap on them both.

_Just like…_

Andy bit his tongue, wincing at the sharp pinch of teeth. _This isn’t—can’t and won’t—Elias._ Andy nodded absentmindedly as he stared at the man. Despite the split reflection of his face and lean build, Andy could not tear his gaze away from tamed jungle of hair ruffled on top of the man’s head. There were no locks to be brushed aside from his eyes as a bang of hair swayed just over his brows while the ends of his hair framed his pale face with that pure, unmistakable color—

_Black._

So dark the night found herself envious.

Andy flinched out of his thoughts with the feather light touch of fingers upon him. The man’s hand hovered over his ankle, carefully peeling the dressing from around the wound when Andy jerked back. Pain seared through his ankle, shooting a bolt of heat up through his leg as he hissed. The man’s lips twisted as he set his hand on Andy’s knee.

“Calm yourself,” the man whispered, feeling the boy’s knee tremble under his grasp. His fingers brushed over the gray bruise mushrooming along Andy’s knee. His gaze held onto Andy’s, whispering once more, “Calm.”

The words seemed to send a wave over Andy’s jittery frame as he hesitantly stretched his ankle out to the outstretched palm. The man laid his hand over the matted cloth and peeled away the last few layers only to feel Andy tense beneath him. The boy’s eyes nearly toppled out at the fiery red pooling within the deep gouges, hiccupping up a mixture of yellow-green pus that puckered around the swollen skin. Andy’s breath caught on the back of his tongue, his heartbeat ringing in his ears until a flicker caught his eye. Buried beneath torn muscle and blood, laid a fragment of white popping out of the churned mess where a crack splintered through the tip; creeping like a spider web down beneath the depths of the wound.

The color in Andy’s face drained as his stomach churned violently. He slapped a hand over his mouth while his throat struggled to gulp down the bile prying for his lips. The man laid a free hand on Andy’s knee again, his thumb rubbing the skin. The gentle rubbing set Andy’s jittery stomach lax as he blinked through glassy eyes at the serene line gracing the other’s lips.

Andy swallowed the bile in his throat down thickly as the man’s gaze bore into him, spouting a million words he didn’t understand—yet the unspoken stillness quelled his hammering heart. The man turned back to the wound and let a small powder of blue drizzle from his palm. Andy winced at the iciness of the powder until the feeling grew over his ankle, numbing it from the pain. The man tugged his knapsack closer to him and yanked out a roll of cloth, carefully lifting the boy’s ankle to wrap it around the flesh.

As Andy watched the man tie the last of the cloth around his ankle with a frown, he gently pulled his ankle away from the man. The man blinked, looking up at the boy quizzically as he asked, “Who are you?”

The man’s bewilderment softened as he set the last of the cloth back into his knapsack. Andy’s brows furrowed and his hand wrapped around the other’s wrist.

“Who are you?” He said firmly despite the uneasiness pluming in his chest.

The man stared at Andy before placing a hand over the boy’s. Andy’s cheeks flushed a bright red as the man’s lips brushed over his knuckles. The man tilted his head to the side with a soft smirk curling along his mouth.

“ _Who do you want me to be?_ ” his cool lips whispered against Andy’s hand.

Andy yanked his hand away from the man as if he burned him. The blush infesting Andy’s cheeks scorched through every freckle on his face until chuckling brought him out of his daze. The chuckling quickly turned into snorts, then into unruly laughter that slapped against the walls. The man doubled over on the ground as his laughter writhed his body from side to side. Andy ogled the man until he rose back up, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You should have seen your face,” he gasped through his snorts. “You’re as red as a virgin!”

The blush seemed to grow darker than before as Andy curled his self into the corner of the cavern, his lips pursed between a frown and a pout. As the man’s chortling finally died down, he tilted his head to the side with a grin.

“Aww,” he mused, gently poking Andy’s cheek while trying to stifle his laughter. “Don’t make that face.”Andy swatted his finger away much to the man’s chagrin.

“I’m just asking for your name.” Andy snapped. “Is that too much to ask?”

The man clucked his tongue, leaning back on his palms with a sigh. Andy arched an eyebrow at him as he ruffled his dark hair.

“Does it matter?” he replied apathetically. “You’re still alive and fully intact as I far as I can tell.”

“That’s not the point.”

“You’re not from around here are you?” The man lazily trailed his gaze down Andy’s flushed cheeks and makeshift clothing he spared onto his back. He rolled his neck to the side, sighing gleefully at the pop of his joints. “Anyone with a brain thrown into a riverbank and drowned would have enough sense not to walk through these parts of the forest.”

Andy felt his cheeks heat up, his fists balling across his chest as he jerked up. Just as a snappy remark was about to fly from his tongue he froze. The nails digging into his palms grew as numb as the ice as he sank back against the corner. He shook his head.

Why was this stranger creeping through his skin so easily?

The man frowned as Andy nestled his self into the corner again, shooting him a wary glance.

“So,” Andy started uneasily, “who are you?”

The mischievous glint in the man’s eyes faded, dulled into the dark depths of ice, and narrowed his eyes. He leaned closer to Andy, the tips of their noses inches apart. “Like I said,” his voice dropped into an icy slur as he whispered lowly, “ _Who do you want me to be_?”

A shudder wracked down Andy’s spine at the icy orbs staring into him. The man stared at him in silence before gathering his knapsack. He shuffled away from Andy towards his side of the cavern. The white cloak was smoothed out along the ground as the man spread his self upon it.

“I wouldn’t recommend moving too much,” the man said, eyes locked on the dark walls that jutted out above them. Andy squinted at him over the fire. “Pain can only go so long without a host.”

Andy ran his hands over his face, groaning quietly. He slumped back against the corner and listened to the crackling fire fill the silence between them. As he scrutinized the dark locks sprawled along the ground. _This isn’t him,_ Andy thought with heavy heart.

“ _Can’t be him.”_ Andy’s eyelids drooped ever so slowly with the small waves of warmth that washed over him and finally let his self fall into slumber’s arms.

The boy’s muscles finally relaxed beneath trembling skin as his breathing fell into an even pattern. Yet unaware to Andy, the man turned back around, staring at him through miniscule wall of flames between them.

Gray fractals pierced the remnants of night as the sun rose through the fog. Pale rays of light slithered through thick branches and rocks to linger over a cavern deep within the forest.

The weak warmth dripped through the vines sealing the cavern’s mouth and fell upon Andy’s eyes. The boy groaned at the darkened light roaming through his slumber. He begrudgingly leaned forward, a yawn escaping his lips. His eyes adjusted to the dust and dirt dancing on the frail smoke of the fire that had burned out well into the night.

He ran a tongue over his cracked lips, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes until his gaze fell upon the body just a foot away from him. A flurry of memories reawakened in an instant as he jerked back against the cavern walls. He watched the man’s chest rise and fall among his makeshift cot of a cloak with his raven, black locks fanning out under him messily.

Andy’s nails dug against the slick rock while his heart thrummed to life in his ears. Despite the calm aura rolling from the man, a flash of ice tearing through one of the hunter’s stomach—spilling the frozen remnants of his entrails—and tearing of a bear trap sprint through Andy’s mind. He sucked in his bottom lip.

 _You’re next,_ Andy gulped at the thought.

His eyes quickly followed the trail of light coming from the entrance of the cavern and he glanced back down at the man’s still form. The boy sucked in a deep breath and carefully rose from his corner, wincing at the sharp throbbing in his ankle. He tied the ends of the blanket around his neck and limped forward. Andy quickly tiptoed around the man, following the light at the end of the cavern. Once he reached the entrance, Andy casted a glance over his shoulder to find the man still asleep.

Andy sighed in relief, brushing the thick vines covering the entrance aside and stumbled out into the open. The boy shielded his eyes against the harsh glare of the light roaming through the trees, carefully making his way down the mound of rocks behind him. The reawaken throb in his ankle protested with each step as he slid onto a thick carpet of leaves and twigs.

Andy shivered at the bitter chill that seeped through the air. He limped forward, his wet earth bathing his feet in dew. The soft crunch of the ground lifted his heart from the fear of an icy death as the mound of the cavern grew into a mere haze camouflaging in the forest—albeit of a slow lifting, Andy mused sullenly with the pain in his ankle crawling up his leg, but lifted nonetheless.

Andy’s thoughts dissolved as another shiver crept along his skin. The chill in the air seemed to thicken around him. He glanced up at the towering trees where the sun hid behind in a mask of gray clouds. A ghost of warmth roamed through Andy’s memories where a boisterous blue bloomed from its floral head of gold, not matted down by a silent storm. Andy’s heart ached at the thought of home, the pain in his leg and ankle dimming in comparison as he suddenly came to a halt.

His eyes widened as thought weighed down on him. _I’ll never see Arendelle again._ He swallowed around the bow tying in his throat, quickly wiping his eyes with the back of his arm. His breath hitched on a sob prying for release when he shakily stepped forward and felt the world fall from under him. Andy gasped as the earth met his jaw with a thud and was dragged downward. Thick twigs tore through the boy’s clothes, lacing him with scratches and bruises with each slam his body made with the hill. A series of rocks roughly massaged the aches searing through Andy’s limbs until he finally rolled to a stop on the flat land of the hill.

A rough cough tore from Andy’s throat as he weakly tried to wind his arms around his self to no avail. While the rest of his muscles twitched and cried at the dents battering his body, the throb in his ankle soared to a burn that made fire cry. Andy screamed into the ground and bit into a mouthful of silt while his fists curled and uncurled. Tears melded into the soil as he tried to prop his self up on his arms. Wheezing around the cries that ravaged his throat, Andy squinted through thin rivulets of red trickling down his brow into the trees that fell out towards the edge of a stream.

_Water!_

Andy clawed at the ground, dragging his self towards the stream until his hands fell into the cool water. The boy threw his face into the silver stream. Grains of dead skin and beads of red fell from his face as the water rushed by him. He tossed his head back with a gasp, watching his breath plume from his lips in white puffs. Andy scooped the water in his palm, ignoring the rapidly falling temperature wracking through his limbs, and pressed it to his mouth. The water dribbled down his chin, yet left an icy gleam upon his tongue. The boy sighed, still whimpering around the pain, as he leaned in for another sip when a growl made his blood run cold.

Andy tore his gaze from the silver stream to stare into toxic gold eyes and a snarl caked in dried blood. Wet puffs of steam washed over Andy’s cheeks, the bristles of the wolf’s snout tickling his skin. Andy swallowed thickly over a curse and sheer scream that desperately wanted to fall from his lips and flee, yet the bruises littered upon the boy’s body anchored the need to survive. Andy scrunched his eyes shut as the wolf’s jaws began to open when a whistle pierced the air.

The wolf’s ears perked as it’s back straightened. It turned its gaze over its shoulder and quickly bounded away from the whistle. Andy’s trembling locked his muscles together until the crunch of grass met his ears.

“Are you alright?” The thick—human—accent brought Andy’s trembling to a halt as he cautiously opened his eyes. Dark violet orbs stared down at Andy, stretching out a free hand. Andy ogled the firewood red-brown hair rustled along the other’s scalp, then at the hand.

“I,” Andy wracked his brain for the proper dialect that would at least mimic the other man’s, “can’t.”

The man arched an eyebrow as Andy nimbly wiggled his leg with red seeping through the bandages on his ankle. The man’s boot sloshed into the stream and wound his arms under Andy’s. The boy groaned as he was heaved onto the other’s shoulder. Andy whimpered under his breath, his legs feeling like lead. He gripped onto the man dragging him across the stream and felt the wind tickle the back of his neck. Andy shivered, glancing behind him to find the wolf staring back at him. Golden eyes then turned to the fog rolling through the forest. Andy squinted through the fog and felt his heart skip a beat. A figure stood several feet behind the wolf—its white cloak flapping along the wind.

“Did you see something?” the man asked, trekking through the end of the forest.

Andy’s mouth opened and closed, his heart hammering in his chest as he shook his head. But when he opened his eyes again the figure and the wolf were gone. He turned his gaze back to the man and shook his head.

“No,” Andy murmured slowly. “Nothing.”

Yet the further they ventured in the forest, the hotter Andy could feel eyes burning in the back of his neck.


	14. Chapter 13

Each creak of the wagon as it rolled into dips along the ground sent a sharp bolt of pain sparking through Andy’s ankle. He bit back a groan and clung onto the side of the wood. Andy glowered at the dark green mold squishing beneath his nails the harder he clung onto the wood, the fresh rot trickling down his fingers. The boy sucked in a breath through his teeth.

A low hum brought Andy’s gaze away from the side of the wagon. The man hummed a tune in the back of his throat, running his fingers through his donkey’s mangled, brown mane. He idly led the creature forward with a small tug of the reigns around it’s muzzle and earned a guttural snort from the donkey in return as it followed his command. Andy felt a twinge of guilt when he pressed back against the stack of firewood in the wagon.

 _Don’t whine,_ he chastised his self as another dip caused his ankle to throb. He gritted his teeth. _Don’t you dare whine!_

“Comfy back there?” The man asked.

Andy flinched, his brain slow in deciphering the man’s words through his accent. “Yes.” Andy said slowly. “Thank you.”

The man rolled his eyes with a smirk. He casted his gaze over his shoulder, stifling a chuckle at the boy crushed in the corner of the wagon with firewood blanketing him.

“It’s fine. I know it’s as cramped as hell.” The man chuckled at Andy’s flush. “But it sure beats walkin’ or sittin’ on this old ass.” He playfully slapped the donkey’s neck, the creature head butting his arm in return. Andy smiled softly as the man added, “We shouldn’t be too far now. Probably less than a mile…”

The irritated prince he had been shushing clawed its way back over Andy’s being as he groaned against the side of the wagon. The trees that towered over them were slowly becoming shorter and thinner the further they traveled, leaving a dark, stormy sky to tangle in the heart of the forest. The thick debris of leaves and fallen trunks were also dissipating into gravelly silt and pebbles with each lurch forward; even the air had changed, icy with more remorse.

Andy looked up at the sun climbing down through gray clouds, simmering a dull copper with inky tendrils looming in its wake. Andy frowned.

“The day never seems to stay,” he murmured.

The man glanced up at the sky and shrugged. “Probably because it has better things to do than watch us corpses cave in on each other.” Andy stared at the man with arched brows. He shrugged again as he jerked the reigns forward.

“What a curt way of thinking.” Andy replied quietly.

“It’s not even thinking,” said the man, “it’s a fact here. The quicker you learn it, the longer you _might_ live.”

Andy’s lips thinned out into a frown. He rested his chin on his arms, burying his head in his scratchy sleeves. Silence settled over them, save for the banshee creak of the wagon and grunt from the donkey, and after a few more moments passed, Andy’s eyes widened. Miniature spokes of chimneys grazed over the last of hill of the forest. A sigh of relief fell from Andy’s lips until the wagon came to a halt.

Andy blinked, arching an eyebrow as the man turned around. “I,” the man started, moving back towards the wagon. He grasped onto the thick burlap nestled around Andy. “I guess I should have mentioned this earlier. We don’t get too many visitors around here.” Andy’s brows furrowed as the man added, “And we don’t take kindly to them either.”

“W-we?” Andy squeaked.

“ _They_ I mean,” he said quickly, raising his hands in defense. “If it were anyone else that came by those parts of the forest…” the man trailed off with a shrug, “…well…”

Andy’s shoulders slumped. His ankle tingled at the memories ghosting down his arms roughly and swallowed thickly. Bile burned at the back of his throat as he nodded.

“I get it.”

The man gathered the burlap flaps in his hands again, gesturing for Andy to lie flat in the wagon. Andy curled his self into the wagon and pressed his cheek against the wooden flanks. The firewood prodded at his spine and ribs while the man tossed the flap over the wagon. He quickly tied the loose strings to the sides of the wagon to keep the flap flat. He kneeled to the edge of wagon, murmuring, “Don’t move until I tell you.”

Andy absentmindedly nodded his head, watching as the man’s silhouette disappeared. With a snort from the donkey, the wagon jerked forward. The dank, muddied flap left a sour taste in Andy’s mouth. He carefully shifted his arms around his self, the rough fabric of his sleeves snagging onto the firewood, and breathed shallowly. The wagon bobbed from side to side as they headed down the hill and with one last rocky dip that made Andy’s ankle wail in agony, the muddy forest floor dissipated into stony gravel and silt.

Wisps of smoke and ash flurried through the small town like wilted feathers of a raven; the smog in the air thickening as an icy chill began to slither along the wind. The man hissed at the cold gnawing beneath his fur vest and led the donkey through the tiny throngs of people. The townspeople, scattered along the ice slicked roads or bundled together in human coats, eyed the man’s wagon with wide eyes. The man frowned as he felt a twinge of remorse in his heart to pull out a spare piece of firewood to throw to them, yet kept his eyes ahead. The steely branches hidden beneath torn garbs and nearly transparent skin made sure of that.

The man weaved through the outskirts of the town until he reached a towering, metal gate. He came to a halt and squinted up at the guards before him. Metal encased eyes bore into him as he shifted his sleeve up to his elbow. The man stretched out his inner arm towards the guards, letting a gnarled black lion stretch down his arm. The guards peered down at the wild mane stained into his pale skin and jerked their heads to the side. The one on the left lifted his lance to the tower over head.

The man yanked his sleeve back over his arm, trembling at the frail warmth, as the gates swung in. He grabbed onto the reigns of the donkey again and tugged forward. The donkey snapped at the man, drool running down the hairs of its black chin. The man quickly scurried through the gates with the wagon in tow, letting a short sigh of relief as the gates closed.

He wrapped an arm around the donkey’s neck, moving swiftly with the packed herd of people within the walls. The ground crunched beneath his feet while he weaved in and out of the streets, hurdles of people squeezing by him and the wagon.

“So far so good,” he murmured under his breath, pretending the snort from the donkey was an agreement. His eyes widened as the sight of weather beaten blue sign met his gaze, stark against the ice crinkled stone and brick buildings that matted down the street. He heart skipped a beat and tangled his fingers in the donkey’s mane harder as he hurried his step.

“It ain’t going anywhere slick.”

The man froze and stumbled to a halt. His tongue darted over his chapped lips, cursing under his breath at dried up muscle that attempted to instead.

“Peder.” The man said carefully, turning on his heel. The other’s meaty frame towered over the man like a giant, his strangely hair messily tucked under his cap. The man’s gaze flickered over the black armband on the verge of splitting around Peder’s arm when the other let a snarl curl at the corner of his lip. Somehow, the man found his voice again, squeaking ashamedly, “What pray tell do you want?”

“What does it look like?” Peder snorted, trailing closer to the man until his breath washed over his face. The man swallowed back a gag at the rotten egg smell that invaded his nostrils. “You’re wagon’s not marked.”

“I can see that,” the man said, gasping for air in between his words. “The gatekeepers saw my wagon fit as it is.”

“Then you won’t mind if I take a second look then, hmm?”

The man frowned, fighting against the urge to glance at the wagon. He straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest out to be level with Peder’s. A sly smirk laced his lips as he swayed his hands to the wagon.

“Be my guest my dear patrol.”

Peder glowered at the man, slamming his shoulder into him as he rounded around the wagon. Peder’s fingers fumbled with the bindings of the flap, snarling at the smile the man threw his way. Yanking the ties apart, Peder flung the flap aside—staring at piles of firewood staggered throughout the wagon. The giant’s brows furrowed as he shifted through the piles of wood and frowned. He dropped the flap over the wagon again.

“Patrol,” The man said mockingly. “Aren’t you going to mark my wagon as checked?”

Peder growled, digging through his coat pocket. He pulled out a rusted head stamp and slammed it against the side of the wagon, making it tremble upon its weary wheels. A dark circle graced the side of the wagon as Peder stomped away, grumbling under his breath.

“It’s so great knowing we’re safe Patrol,” The man called after him with a smirk, “from firewood!”

Peder roughly knocked into people passing by, spitting out colorful curses as he went, and disappeared around the corner. The man let out a sigh of relief only to shiver at the wind that howled through the city.

“C-come on boy,” he stuttered through chattering teeth as he led the donkey towards the building with the blue sign. He rounded around the back of the building and led donkey towards a battered shed. Hoisting the rungs from the creature’s back, the donkey clambered into its stall with the door slamming behind him.

The man quickly moved back towards the wagon, wilting hay tickling at his ankles. He flung the burlap off the wagon and sifted through the firewood until a choked cough met his ears. The man pulled off a piece of firewood from the head of the wagon to find aqua blue eyes squinting up at him, spitting out traces of mold that curled around his mouth.

The man’s shoulders slouched as he let out a breath of relief. Andy spat out another drop of mold that managed to wriggle down his mouth. “Close one, huh?”

The man shook his head, pushing away the firewood from the side of the wagon as he sighed, “You have no idea.”

The man gripped onto Andy’s arm and carefully hoisted him out of the wagon. The boy winced at his muscles reawakening in a buzz while his ankle throbbed. Andy bit back a groan until the man pulled Andy’s weight on his side.

“Don’t worry,” the man said softly, dragging Andy out of the shed. As they stepped out of the shed, the icy wind bit at Andy’s skin. A wave of goose bumps rose on Andy’s arms, wrapping his arm tighter around the man. The man’s hand fiddled in his pocket and pulled out a key encased in dark black rust. Pushing it into the lock of the back door, the gears rumbled and clicked as the door swung in. He turned to Andy with a frail smile. “This should be the last time you’ll be moving around so much…hopefully.”

Andy arched his eyebrows at the last word falling from the man’s mouth only to sigh at the warmth wafting over the doorway. The man closed the back door with his heel as they ventured through the dimly lit corridor. The meek warmth fanning through the building weaved towards them as the dim lanterns grew brighter. Andy squinted up at the dark wooden walls that glowed a dull wine violet, lulling him into the waltz of flames in the glass lanterns hanging down.

Andy shivered, feeling his muscles thaw against his bones, and leant his head against the man’s shoulder when voices began to plume from the front of the hall. The man turned the corner and gently shoved a swinging door open with his shoulder. The two shuffled into a kitchen where the man leant Andy against a table. The wooden corner dug into Andy’s side as he leaned back against it. He clung onto the sides of the table as his legs splayed out over the short edges. The man turned his back to the boy, shuffling through a cupboard until he came back with cloth and a small bowl. Andy squinted at the murky water sloshing around the copper edges.

Andy’s lips scrunched into a frown until he yelped at the hand resting on his ankle. The man glanced up at him sheepishly. “Sorry.” He murmured. “Just bear with it for a second.”

The thick, muddied wrappings of cloth fell from Andy’s ankle. The dim candle light swam along dark violet flesh that swelled around the dark red wound, like the dusting of dusk as it burns against the end of the sun. The man dipped the spare cloth into the bowl, gently dabbing around the edges of the wound as Andy flinched. He yanked his ankle away from the man only to groan at the searing pain that intensified after the other touched it.

“Would you be still.” The man huffed, straining to keep the boy’s ankle out. He barely brushed the wound again when Andy shifted away.

“You didn’t say it was hot.” Andy cried.

“How else am I going to clean it?”

Andy swatted the man’s hand away from his ankle, biting down his bottom lip to stop the groans of pain from escaping. As the two continued bantering, heavy footsteps stomped towards the front door of the kitchen.

“Jurij, is that you?” A worn, muffled voice called, falling upon deaf ears and bickering. The door swung open as a man tottered in, sighing heavily, “Honestly how long does it take to get some fire…” The man stopped in his tracks, staring at Jurij frozen over a boy with a bloody ankle swaying off the table. He blinked as he absentmindedly shifted through faces in his memories that matched the young boy’s only to come up empty handed. His eyes widened, lifting a shaky finger towards the boy on the table. “He…you…”

“Da. I can explain.” Jurij scurried over to the man.

“You…” the man tugged at the shaggy hair receding along his temples. “You didn’t…”

Jurij clapped his hands on the man’s shoulders and led him to the opposite corner of the kitchen. He gently tapped the man’s cheek with his fingers. “Da, breathe.” The man took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

“Who is this?” The man said lowly.

It was Jurij’s turn to squirm as he took in a shaky breath of his own. He jutted a thumb over his shoulder.

“A friend of mine.” He said. “He was injured, so I brought him back here to treat him.”

The man’s eyes narrowed questionably. “ _Where_ was he injured?”

Jurij scratched the back of his neck, mumbling quickly, “In the forest.”

The man’s eyes threatened to topple from their sockets as he whipped his gaze over to Andy on the table and back at Jurij.

“Are you out of your mind?” The man hissed.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“ _Leave him!_ ”

Jurij brows furrowed and crossed his arms. At the downcast chin and smoldering glare thrown his way the man groaned.

“You kept ‘im hidden, didn’t you?” He asked, running a hand over his face.

“Not even the guards sensed him.”

The man sighed deeply. He snatched the wet, smoky cloth out of Jurij’s grasp. “This is why you failed the nursing unit.”

The man stalked over to the table and picked up the copper bowl. He casted a weary glance at Andy as the boy shrunk away from him. The man glanced back at Jurij, then the bowl—stomping out the door. Andy blinked, staring at Jurij shrug his shoulders.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe.” Jurij said as a crash erupted outside of the kitchen with a hefty dose of swears filling the air. Andy arched his brows at him as Jurij frowned, “for now.”

The crackling embers of the fire left warmth roaming down Andy’s frame. He shivered as his muscles and bones practically thawed into mush as if reaching out for the flames themselves. The boy squinted through hooded lids at the shutters boarding up the windows along with thick sheets that draped over them. Rows of empty tables stretched out in the farthest corners of the room to its center, making it seem larger than it actually was.

The boy shivered again.

 _Illusions,_ he thought bitterly, _nothing more than illusions._

Andy tucked his chin into the wool blanket around him and glowered at his freshly bandaged ankle. After three bowls of steaming water and a thick rag to choke out the cries that rubbed Andy’s throat raw, the dried blood was finally cleansed and the throbbing had ceased.

 _“Nasty trap you stepped in.”_ the man—Da, as the man had called him—had said. _“You’re lucky you didn’t lose a foot.”_

The corners of Andy’s lips twitched into a frown. _Yes,_ he chuckled humorlessly, _I’m so lucky._

“How’s it feeling?”

Andy jumped, whipping his head around towards Jurij. The other tilted his head at him curiously. Andy shrunk back against the hard wood of the chair and looked away from the propped up ankle on the stool.

“It’s fine.” He muttered.

Jurij nodded, pulling up a chair from a table. He plopped his self down on the chair and sighed deeply. Andy glanced everywhere around the room, sneaking quick glance as at the man scratching at the short red-brown hair clinging to his scalp. He nibbled at his bottom lip and mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Hmm?”

Andy buried his chin deeper into the blanket, saying louder, “Thank you…you…?”

“Jurij.” The man threw the boy a lopsided grin. He chuckled softly at the flush crawling along Andy’s cheeks as he snatched a fire iron lying on the floor and stirred the fire. The embers hissed and lapped at the iron as the firewood crumbled beneath it. Silence stretched out between the two, save for the fire’s murmurs, when Jurij’s eyes narrowed. “So who sent you here?”Andy fought back a flinch, staring up at the man who shot him a blank glare. “No one’s that stupid to wander out into those parts of the woods and _not_ know who crawls there. That is if you know the area anyway.”

Andy’s fingers crushed the ends of the blanket. The wood threatened to leave splinters in his back as he pressed harder against the rungs of the chair. Jurij frowned.

“I’m not going to harm you if that’s what you’re worried about.” Andy lips remained closed. “You can at least tell me something about yourself. I did kind of save you out there.” Silence. Jurij sighed. “How ‘bout your home? Where did you come from?”

Andy looked down at the fire, the flames’ light glazing over glassy eyes as Jurij sighed again. He turned back to stir the fire when Andy whispered, “I don’t know if I even have one anymore.”

Jurij jerked his head towards the boy. “You…were exiled?” He asked cautiously.

“Exile,” Andy laughed humorlessly. “Wouldn’t that be great?” He slouched forward till his chin rested on top of his knees. “No. My absence isn’t enough to cause worry or joy.”

Jurij rested his chin in his palms and leaned forward. He murmured, “How ‘bout a name? You got one of those?”

Andy opened his mouth then closed it. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed.

Jurij offered a soft smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Okay, then I guess I’ll just name.” Andy snorted, leaving Jurij’s shoulders to slack; thankful that the tension was lessened—until now. “How does Odell sound?”

Andy arched an eyebrow. “What?”

Jurij scratched his neck and bit down on his lip. His thumbs twiddled together as he searched for words. “Getting you in here was the easy part. It’s keeping you alive that’s…more difficult.” Andy’s brows rose quizzically. “Try to understand. We aren’t living in the best conditions in these mountains. _And_ that’s caused us to divide the last of us from the ones the mountain claimed.

“You see, this wall of ours is a haven from the outside. It keeps us tight knit to one another to the point we share the same breath. Feel the same heartbeat. We’re a body—a whole individual! And an individual notices when something is wrong with it.”

Andy flinched at the sway of hand Jurij took of his golden hair and buried his self deeper in the blanket. The man sighed, “So in order to keep our order, we check to make sure outsiders don’t try to infect us per say. And if there is an infection…someone gets hurt. _Bad_.”

Andy bit the inside of his cheek, furrowing his brows. “So where does Odell come in?”

Jurij flushed slightly. “Well, Odell…was my sister. You believe it or not remind me of her.”

“So what will Odell say when she sees—”

“She won’t.” Jurij spat bitterly. “She’s gone.”

Andy’s eyes softened. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not that gone. She’d be better off that way though.” Jurij grumbled, catching his self quickly as he cleared his throat. “She ran off with some mountain borne man months ago and escaped the wall. Hell knows where she is.” He shook his head and looked up at Andy. “But none of the others know yet. As far as they’re concerned she’s been bedridden with Spotted Welch fever.”

“Why don’t the…others know yet?”

Jurij’s lips twisted into a deep frown. “It’s embarrassing to know that a part of yourself rejected the wall. Rejected the body…rejected me.” Jurij shook his head again and leaned closer to Andy. He rested his hand near the boy’s knee. “Da was this close to reporting you before he took another look at you. You’re practically the spitting image of her. Minus the hair and gender of course.” Andy blushed as Jurij pressed on. “This is the only way I know we can keep you alive long enough to…what is it that you’re here for?”

Andy’s lips twisted. _What am I here for?_

He glanced down at the fire’s warm chestnut glow illuminating his savior’s face; twinkling in his amethyst eyes like lost stars in the sky when the night was torn from it all too soon. The boy sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to Odell for a while,” he said.

Jurij’s eyes lit up as he let out a hearty laugh.

“Oh thank goodness!” he exclaimed. “If you didn’t go along with that, we would’ve had to put you under the floorboards.”

Andy smiled before the words sunk into his mind. “Wait what?”

“Never mind that,” Jurij waved off his question as he leaped from his chair. “Da and I gotta make plans for your return. I’ll be back to check on you soon.” The man scurried out of the room and down the hall before he came to a halt. He backed up to the main room again and poked his head around the wall. “Are you sure about this?” Andy’s brows furrowed before he shook his head and nodded firmly. “Okay, but first…what size dress do you wear?”


	15. Chapter 14

“Y-you received my letter, your highness?”

The young king blinked, scrutinizing every ruffle and tear adorning the man’s clothes. The old gentry’s glasses clung to the bridge of his nose lopsidedly, a crack spider webbing through both lenses, as he looked up at the king over the copper rims. Pale, blue-green veins rose vigorously under wrinkled skin with every jittery movement the man made to fiddle with the ends of his weathered tunic. Elias trekked his gaze down to the ripped trousers that clung onto his knobby knees and frowned.

 _After all this and you still come to me immediately upon new knowledge,_ he thought to his self with a swell of guilty gratitude in his chest. Elias rested his elbows upon the oak table and knitted his fingers together.

“Of course.” Elias said. “If you don’t mind Ferdinand, would you explain to me again what happened?”

The man flinched, casting a weary gaze over his shoulder at the two men from the Southern Isles on board with him who nodded back at him. He turned back to the round table and sucked in a deep breath through his thin lips. As soon as the boat had docked in the fjord, Ferdinand and the remaining crew members were whisked through the port and into the war room of the castle. The curtains were drawn tightly, letting a red-violet wine light flitter through the locked room. Ferdinand swallowed thickly under the earnest gaze of his king; the glares from his king’s right hand and the king’s closest ally merely pinning him to the spot.

“Your majesty,” the man’s voice cracked, his tongue growing heavy and dry as he licked his lips. “The negotiations with the northern kingdom failed.”

Ferdinand shivered at the icy glare creeping beneath Ingvar’s eyes while Elias folded his hands on the table, leaning against the edge intently.

“We arrived at the kingdom—deathly cold it was—and we approached their king with all due respect and earnest. I told him of the Draugen’s rise and the pressing need for their assistance in the legion. But…” Ferdinand’s brows furrowed. “Their king refused. He said that he wouldn’t bring his people into a war of invisibles without a hefty pay. So he turned us away.”

Elias’s lips thinned out into a deep frown as he murmured, “I see.” His finger tapped the table absentmindedly, a streak of ice spiraling underneath the wood from the prying eyes of his court. “And the others? What of them?”

Ferdinand darted his eyes to the floor, saying softly, “They’re dead your majesty.” Elias’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m afraid their king wanted to show that he did not wish to be bothered by matters that would not benefit his self. We barely had time to escape onto the ship when the storm hit.”

Elias stared at the man as the ice beneath the wood scratched the surface of the table ever so slightly. King Westerguard slammed his fist on the table with a snarl crossing his lips.

“Damned savages!” he growled. “Of course they’d only seek for their own personal gain.”

Ingvar barely nodded, glancing over at the young king with a furrowed brow. Elias rested his palms on the table with a stony expression.

“Thank you Ferdinand.” Elias said. “You’ve risked more for me than I could ever ask.”

Ferdinand winced, nodding earnestly as he turned on his heel towards the door. The two men from the Southern Isles wearily glanced at their king, receiving a dismissive wave from him as they moved towards the door as well. Ferdinand’s fingers brushed along the lock of the door when Elias rose from his chair.

“Ferdinand.” The man froze, shivering as he looked back at his king. A stray lock of ivory fell over Elias’s eye, but he didn’t stop to brush it from his face and asked, “Were there by chance any stowaways on board?”

Ferdinand’s lips twisted in thought until he shook his head. The color drained from Elias’s face as he sank back into his chair. “Oh.” Ferdinand’s stomach wrenched tightly at the vacant look in Elias’s eyes until he waved his hand. “Thank you Ferdinand. Please go rest.”

The man quickly scurried out of the room with the two men in tow, shutting the door behind them loudly. Elias buried his face in his hands as King Westerguard leaned back in his chair.

“I knew they couldn’t be trusted,” he spat fiercely. “The nerve of them! Insulting the legion of the seven kingdoms and killing my men!”

“Not to mention leaving us open to the Draugen,” Ingvar said. He looked over at Elias. “My king, what are our other options?”

“That was our other option,” Elias groaned into his hands.

“Your highness,” King Westerguard gasped, “surely you have another plan…”

Elias snapped his head up from his palms and glared at the other king. “Don’t you think I would have said it already?” His fingers found themselves massaging his temples roughly. “The sanity of our legion and kingdoms lied in unifying it with our estranged neighbor.”

“Aside from the legion then?”

“Of course.” Ingvar cut in. “The seven of us will pool together our resources and be on bay to safe guard each of our kingdoms. If one of us is attacked, then we all attack. We’re also gathering more information on the Draguen through secret intelligence as well.”

King Westerguard hummed, rubbing his chin as the information sank in. “Then what will we do about the ‘sanity’ of the legion?”

“They’ll be informed of this of course,” Ingvar proclaimed, “as soon as we settle…”

“No.” King Westerguard and Ingvar stared at Elias quizzically. “We tell the people now.”

King Westerguard’s breath caught at the back of his throat as he spluttered, “And tell them what? That we’re declaring war with… _invisibles_?” He last word left a bitter taste in the king’s mouth.

“And if we don’t,” Elias said, his eyes steely, “who’s to stop a loose mouth from spreading petty gossip that _will_ spiral out of control and cause more uprising than the actual threat? You’ve heard the whispers yourself in your own kingdom Westerguard—they’ve seenproof of the Draugen with their own eyes before we did.” Elias sighed, holding the side of his head. “The sooner we tell them their fears are real, the sooner we can mold that realization into a shield.”

King Westerguard opened his mouth to retaliate only to close it again. His fists tightened, his knuckles growing ashen as they popped under his skin. Despite the list of disagreements on the tip of his tongue, he knew—deep in his core that was wrenching at the thought—that Elias was right. He swallowed thickly, coughing roughly at the dry patches growing at the back of his throat.

“Alright then,” he murmured wheezy. “I’ll have my men report back to the Southern kingdoms immediately.”

“And I’ll inform the west and the east.” Ingvar said, rising from his chair. King Westerguard walked towards the doors of the war room with the former king regent at his heels. Just before Ingvar stepped out, he glanced back at Elias. “I trust the announcement is in your hands.”

Elias nodded grimly as he stared at the ice crinkling up through the table’s surface. White-gray splintered through the oak wood, sending an earsplitting crack to echo throughout the room. Elias let out a resigned sigh and rose from the table. Moving towards the door, he whisked his hand behind him where the ice instantly melted into the torn table.

“Remind me to replace that.” Elias mumbled.

The corners of Ingvar’s lips twisted into a tight frown.

“Elias.” Elias stopped in his tracks. Ingvar reached out and rested a hand on the younger’s shoulder, trailing it down to his bicep that he rubbed tenderly. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of your decisions.”

Elias snorted mockingly, “Have you met me?”

“Yes.” Ingvar’s brows knitted together. Leaning close behind him, his breath tickled the shell of Elias’s ear. “But that was when you had _him_ locked up in a pretty little safe of a castle.”

Elias whipped around towards Ingvar who greeted him with a flat smirk. The young king flushed, brushing the stray lock back into place and crossed his arms. Ingvar shook his head, saying, “Don’t let this little stunt of his threaten your good judgment.”

Ingvar walked past him as Elias caught his self and replied firmly, “He didn’t run away. He wouldn’t.”

Ingvar stopped mid-step and glanced back at Elias; the young king’s eyes lit with an icy flare rarely shown in the daylight with a firm glare burning its way through him. _To think that I almost snuffed that out of him,_ he silently chuckled.The former king regent smirked somberly at Elias.

“Of course,” Ingvar mused, “because leaving in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye in a state of crisis isn’t running away.” Elias’s stern mask fell, clinging onto the edge of the table as his knees gave way. The words stung the hollow of his chest while Ingvar spat bitterly, “Right Elias?”

The door slammed shut, accenting the words prying the bars off the cellar of memories buried deep in Elias’s mind. He swallowed heavily around the knot in his throat. Elias’s fists curled and uncurled, murmuring, “He wouldn’t run away.”

Something in Elias forced him to his feet, be it the ice in him or his duties lulling him out towards the hall. He ran a hand through his hair and reached the door. His fingers curled around the metal that trembled underneath the coldness in his touch as his eyes narrowed. The door slammed behind him, shaking on its hinges from the force that left a crack zig-zagging down the white wood. He stalked down the empty hall with a lone thought gnawing at the back of his mind. Every whisper—every sly glance—thrown at his brother festered through Elias’s memories as he growled to the ghosts in the hall, “He wouldn’t run away.”

_Not like that man._

“Odell! Odell! Stop dazing out and bring that crate up now!”

“Oh give ‘er a break Otto.” A man pestered, scratching at his knobby chin. He rested his cheek on his fist, drawling, “The girl’s not as stout as she used to be.”

Otto grumbled tiredly, tapping his fingers on top of the small bar. He glowered at the shadows casted along the walls of the tavern. Voices bickered and plumed, chortling about news and gossip that churned within the Wall. Otto bit the inside of his cheek as he barked down at the cellar, “Odell!”

A heavy thump greeted his ears. The back of a brown dress poked up from the dimly lit cellar as the girl heaved upwards. Sweat beaded down the girl’s brow as she slowly inched her way up the stairs and behind the bar, a large barrel meeting her waist following after. With a grunt the barrel clattered onto the floor as the girl keened over it, wheezing for stale air that made her nose and lungs cringe.

“Atta girl!” The man behind the bar cheered. “You see Otto. You got to give women time to come out on top.”

A flushed pink spread down her face and neck, her aqua, blue eyes glowering at the floorboards as she wretched herself straight up. She tilted her face over at the man with a faint smile while Otto hauled the barrel to the back of the tavern. The man’s eyes lit up.

“Is that what I think it is?” he gaped.

“Yep,” Otto grunted, shoving the barrel into place. He returned with dust caking his sleeves.

The man licked his flaky lips. “I don’t suppose you could let an old mate have a spare cup, hmm?”

“You can wait like the rest of us.”

The man pouted as Otto slid him a glass of bubbling ale across the counter. He shot an eager glance at the panting girl and grinned. “It’s been ages since you’ve made us a good batch. I’m looking forward to it.”

The girl, finally having caught her breath, feigned a faint smile, murmuring softly, “I’ll do my best.”

She yelped unceremoniously as Otto roughly jerked her arm and dragged her her to the back of the tavern. She stumbled after the man into the pantry of the tavern.

“ _‘I’ll do my best,’_ really?”

The girl’s brows furrowed, grumbling in a lower voice, “Well someone didn’t tell me what she used to say.”

Otto rolled his eyes and yanked a stool out from under the cupboards. Dust plummeted from the shelves, drifting a thick coat of dirt in the air. The girl hacked at the dust sneaking into her nose while Otto heaved a barrel out from one of the shelves. The barrel slammed onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Your ingredients are in the cupboard over there,” Otto said, pointing to the shelves across from them.

The girl squinted through the grimy dust flittering through the room. The man nodded his head at the shelves, lightly patting her arm to move forward. The girl stumbled over spare wood, brooms, and corks until she reached the shelves. An array of jars stretched out across the shelves, each holding thick estranged objects bobbing in peculiar liquid.

“Your jar’s the fifth one to the right,” Otto called.

The girl skimmed through the jars, ogling at the array shapes of the objects until she reached the fifth jar. She looked at the thick glass, squinting down at the contents resting at the bottom of the clear liquid. The girl tentatively tapped the jar, calling over her shoulder, “What is this exactly?”

“Mice.”

The girl felt her heart drop. Piled at the bottom of the jar were tiny, pink frames that barely stretched over the masses they were; black beads of eyes veiled over by the skin that had yet to fully form. The girl jumped away from the jar and bit back a yelp.

“What am I supposed to do with…” she shuddered, realizing the infants long since drowned at the bottom of the jar, “mice?”

Otto sighed, jutting his finger to the barrel on the floor. “You drop ‘em in the moonshine and let ‘em sit.”

“S-so,” the girl stuttered, “he was asking for…” Otto nodded as she held the side of her head. The color drained from her face as she spluttered, “Why?”

“It’s _your_ delicacy.” Otto shrugged.

“It would be, if someone told me how to make it.” The girl snapped.

“Well _Odell_ can figure it out on her own,” Otto snapped back. He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. He lowered his voice and muttered, “Get a grip boy or else someone will.”

Otto thundered back to the front of the tavern, leaving _Odell_ in the pantry. She plucked out the thick cork sealing the contents of the barrel, grumbling ever so quietly, “It’s Andy.”

The cork popped out of the barrel’s seal and a sharp bitter scent greeted Andy’s nose, causing him to stagger back. The bitterness wafted through the room while Andy went back to the cupboard. Holding the jar of mice at arm’s length, Andy moved back to the barrel. The opened seal revealed a wide hole gaping into darkness. Andy’s fingers twisted the lid of the jar off and tilted it over the opening.

The pink carcasses swished downward, toppling over the rim of the jar and splashed into the moonshine within the barrel. Andy’s nose wrinkled at the sterile and bitter scents colliding with each heavy drop of the mice until the jar was empty. Setting the jar on the shelf, Andy quickly lodged the cork back into the barrel’s opening and wiped his fingers down the dress; grimacing at the dark, greasy film glistening on the fabric.

“Odell! Grab me the goat’s milk!”

Andy groaned and leaned over to the shelf on the left side of the pantry.

“Left is milk, left is milk,” he murmured, squinting through thick dust coated bottles.

He lightly blew on the bottles—only to gasp as a twister of dust engulfed him. Andy hacked and wheezed in the cloud of dust. Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he swatted at the air and snatched a bottle from the shelf. Blinking away his tears, Andy wiped his sleeve on the bottle. As the dust cleared, Andy squinted down at the bottle and froze.

Glaring up at him in the dim, copper light of the pantry were glassy orbs stained with red webbing. A crown of dust littered the boy’s matted brown hair that sloppily draped his cheeks. Andy tentatively toyed with the ends of his hair that now rested at the nape of his neck; he brought his hand away to stare at the mud crumbling in his fingers. Andy frowned at the dull reflection and sighed heavily.

“ _Odell!_ ”

Andy groaned silently, quickly racing over the maze of forgotten tools and dirt on the floor towards the front of the tavern.

 _How long has it been,_ he pondered, tracing the outline of his reflection before cracking a sheepish smile to Otto, _since I was Andy?_


	16. Chapter 15

Bright orange specks of ash fluttered through the air with each clang of metal against metal; the clangs thundering through deafened ears amidst the realm of soot. Jurij squinted down at the blood, orange metal boiling in his pot; barely even flinching as the metallic ooze bubbled up at him. His lips scrunched together into a frown.

 _That's heat we need._ He thought bitterly; the hairs on his skin rose at the prickling heat pawing at his wrists. The blinding orange spewed up flakes of ash to dust his face in black soot. A ghost of a grin traced his lips the longer he stared at the boiling metal.

"I'll gladly put your face in it if you want." Jurij flinched out of his thoughts as the roar of metal greeted him to reality once more. The frail glow of lanterns shooed the shadows of the cavern aside, draping against the silhouettes of the blacksmiths' hunched frames. Jurij blinked down at his bucket and the man kneeling before him cradling a rusted mold.

Jurij gave him a lopsided grin. "Sorry."

Gunter grunted at the back of his throat, holding the mold down firmly as the molten metal fell from the bucket. The two shielded their eyes at the blazing light as it shrugged into the mold's frame like a glove. Jurij pulled the bucket back up while Gunter quickly shuffled mold to the side and grabbed an empty one from the stack. Jurij carefully tilted the bucket over to pour out the metal, sighing, "Nothing like slaving away, eh?"

Gunter rolled his eyes. "Not when you're whining apparently."

"It's merely an observation." Jurij quipped lightly. "But at least Idon't have another shift." Jurij's grip on the railing slipped slightly, shaking the flow of the molten metal to splatter along the edge of the mold—and onto Gunter's sausage like fingers.

Gunter cursed under his breath and yanked his hand away from the mold. Heat scalded through his skin as he shook the metal from his fingertips. A sliver of gray seared his fingers, patches of skin still trapped under globs of metal, as Gunter shot Jurij a dirty glare.

"I'm not joking," he growled. "I will put your face down in this shit."

A cold bead of sweat ran down the back of Jurij's neck, holding his hands up in defense. Gunter rose from the ground and took a step towards the other when a voice broke through the clashing metal.

"Heimer!" Jurij whipped his head around towards the front of the cavern. Through the thick musty dust that roamed in the cavern, Jurij caught sight of another man staggering by the entrance. "Get up here!"

Jurij let out a sigh of relief, setting the bucket carefully in the melting bin beside the station. He shot Gunter a half grin as he backed away.

"Sorry," he said. "But my face will be attached until another day."

Gunter grumbled under his breath, watching the man quickly scurry along the passageway towards a small opening of light. Small sparks of white whizzed by Jurij as he made his way past the iron workers who sharpened the newly formed metal and climbed up a flight of stairs at the end of the tunnel he entered. The roar of metal and fire died down to a faint hum the further he walked up into the main entrance of the blacksmiths' workshop. The man who had called him gestured him to the small table up front. The man scooped a couple of silver pieces into Jurij's blackened hand. Jurij glanced down at the pieces and frowned.

"You cut me short." Jurij said.

The man raised a brushy eyebrow at him. "And?" Jurij gave him a pointed look while the man leant against the table. Dustings of ash and soot filled the thin crevices of his face like an outline to a sketch as he said calmly, "I don't owe you shit from the work you gave me last week."

"I worked overtime." Jurij replied through gritted teeth.

"Well then," the man swayed his hand to the side and flicked it, where another piece appeared in his hand. He brought the silver piece to Jurij's view. The younger's eyes widened at the bronze seal in the center of the piece as it flickered away from sight. He blinked quizzically until the man finished, "If you want the rest—and more—then you can work overtime again tomorrow."

Jurij's cheeks flushed, his hands balling into fists, and sighed. "Fine." He turned on his heel to walk to the front of the workshop. He yanked the thick goggles from his eyes, drinking in the clear drop off foyer where an aisle of hooks hung on the wall. He snatched a ruddy scarf and cap from a hook. As he threw cap on his head, he grumbled into the scarf, "Expect more shitty work."

Pushing the heavy leaded doors open, Jurij let out a short wheeze at the briskly icy air that whirled around him. The sweat induced ash and soot musk was knocked out of him as he breathed in the air of the outside. A wry smirk worked across his blackened lips.

"At the least the air down there was warm," he murmured to his self.

A frail, gray sky rode over the city, letting slivers of sunlight grace the streets in broken fragments. Jurij scoffed at the light attempting to fit into the shadow pieces scattered through the city. He tugged his scarf tighter around his face.

 _Like that's going to do anything_ , he thought.

He groaned at the back of his throat once he stepped forward; the snow practically devoured his boots. He kicked thick clumps of snow in his path to the side, alternating between fierce kicks and dragging his feet. As he stomped through the snow, his eyes locked onto a speck of brown leaning by the gates of the workshop. The figure shivered, tugging their coat tighter around them while a smile wormed across Jurij's lips.

He quickly marched through the snowy mounds. Finally Jurij leapt over the last pile of snow onto a cleared path that led out to the twisting, congested streets. The figure at the gates played with the ends of her coat idly as he leant down to her ear.

"Miss me?" The girl jumped, jerking her arm back and slammed her elbow into Jurij's ribcage. He winced. The girl cupped her hands over her mouth.

"Sorry," she said softly.

Jurij gave her a lopsided smile, chuckling, "I'll take that as a no."

The girl flushed, her face growing pink beneath her tattered brown cap that was tugged over her head. The playfulness in Jurij's eyes dimmed as he spotted a strand of gold running down to her shoulders amidst dark brown hair. He quickly jerked the cap down over the back of her head, and plucked the strand from her scalp.

"Ow! What was that—" She trailed off. Her eyes lingered on the strand of golden hair swaying in his hand. She casted his eyes down at the ground as Jurij dropped the strand, shoving it under the snow for good measure. His lips thinned into a slight frown and tentatively offered his arm out to her. She glanced at it warily and wrapped her arm around it with a resigned pout.

"Watch your step," Jurij said.

"I don't need to watch…" She mumbled only to cling onto his arm as she slipped. Ignoring his chuckle, she glared at the ground where the thin sheet of ice glittered amongst gravel. A small flush crept over her cheeks. "S-so how was work?"

"Terrible as always," Jurij snorted. "The tavern?"

"Wonderful," she rolled her eyes. "Even more so with having to clean up Boris's drool when he passes out…with a mouse in his mouth."

"They aren't that bad. Most would kill for at least a tail when you're starving."

"I'm okay with starving then."

Jurij shook his head, the crunching of ice beneath their feet filling the silence between them. He glanced down at her warily. "No boys troubling you?"

"Not with my delicate condition, thank god." She sighed,

Jurij let out a sigh of his own then asked, "No girls either?"

He choked on his laughter and a wheeze as her elbow knocked into his side. She yanked her arm away with a scowl.

"Of course not!" She snapped a tad bit too low for her voice. Jurij gave her warning look as she turned away. She shoved her gloved hands in her pockets, kicking a frosted rock to the side as she mumbled quietly, "I'm already promised to someone else."

Jurij felt his heart skip a beat as they entered the throng of markets and people. Despite her new lack of boisterous statements and appetite (covered by the fact that she was still recovering) she still continued her own habits own working at the Tavern and meeting with her brother. Yet, the two of them had fallen into a new, private routine since Odell's returned. Jurij would make sure his sister was acting as she should while she would reveal some shred of her old life.

"Oh," Jurij scratched the back of his head, forcing his tongue to untangle itself to ask quietly, "What was she like?"

The girl—boy, Jurij kept correcting his self in the back of his mind—bit down on her lip. She fiddled with the ends of the heavy coat. Jurij kicked his self. He flicked his gaze over the frost settling in between the stones of houses until her voice murmured ever so quietly, "Beautiful." Jurij whipped his head towards her, eyes threatening to titter out of his sockets. A genuine smile graced her lips at the thought. "She's stubborn—ridiculously stubborn. Stronger than ten men combined! And fragile, more so than she wants to admit."

Jurij's gaze softened; a smile of his own lifting at the corner of his mouth. This was the most he gotten out of the other after three months of careful prying.

"You two must be really close, huh?"

She shrugged, chuckling, "As close as we'll ever be without her reindeer butting in all the time."

"Lucky," Jurij scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "Da always buts in before I can get close. Though I guess it's better than having your sibling meddling in."

The chuckling stopped dead in its tracks. Jurij arched an eyebrow, looking down at the solemn gaze in her eyes.

"O-Odell?" He asked tentatively.

She blinked, taking her boot away from the snow she was stomping in.

"We should hurry up," she grunted. "Ot—Da wants me to fix up another brew of mice." Her shoulders hunched up defensively as she scurried through the busy street with Jurij at her heels. His brows still furrowed in a deep frown. "You got work later tonight?"

Jurij frowned, sighing, "No, tomorrow. Ol' bastard won't leave me alone."

"I can help with your deliveries then." She replied without missing a beat.

His frown deepened. "You can barely lift a barrel. What makes you think you can lift a cart?"

"My will, that's what!" She snapped. "It's only a few deliveries anyway."

Jurij restrained from arguing anymore and followed after her.

"Make sure you only give out one crate per customer. Jurij I'm talking to you." Otto said with a glare.

"It was one time Da!" Jurij groaned, hoisting a crate onto the cart. The amber liquid glimmered under the lantern lights, beaming a dull gold within the flasks. He licked his chapped lips with a frown. "Are you sure they can't just come down to the Tavern? They even have people to do it for them."

"The inner parts of the city don't work like that." Otto grunted, snatching a crate from Odell before it could fall. "You know that." Jurij grumbled under his breath as Otto placed the last crate onto the cart. He turned on his heel and clapped the girl's shoulder, whispering, "Keep an eye on this one will you?"

She bit back a snort as Jurij glared at the back of Otto's graying head. The man slammed the door to the empty tavern behind him. Jurij tied the restraints on the donkey, tapping lightly on the back. The creature snapped its jaws at the man before sauntering forward with the crate creaking behind them.

"I thought we weren't bringing Ryle?" Odell said.

"That was before the entire Inner City wanted half of the tavern." Jurij grumbled. He glanced down at her and scratched the back of his neck. His eyes darted along the empty streets twisting around them the further they walked. "I bet it's warmer back home, huh?"

Odell's lips swerved into a frown, shrugging, "Truth be told, it's a different kind of cold.''

"Really?" Jurij arched an eyebrow, careful to hide the curiosity in his voice.

"Yeah, I guess you can say it's not as harsh," Odell replied, snorting slightly, "Then again, it really depends on his mood."

"What?"

"Nothing." Odell flushed, fumbling with the buttons on her coat. The narrow streets widened as they walked, the creaking of the cart filling the silence that had become an alien familiarity. "Do you miss her?"

Ryle shook his head as Jurij's jaw set. "No."

Odell flinched at the coldness in his voice. Her eyes narrowed at the crinkled brow forming over head and frowned. "I don't believe you."

Jurij jerked his gaze at her-him he reminded his self. "Well it doesn't really matter now does it?"

"I would just think you would talk more about the girl I'm supposed to be." She snapped.

"And I would think you would tell me something about you to make things easier."

She blinked at the bitterness lacing his tone and dragged her gaze down at the gravel ground. Jurij sighed, running a hand down his face. He swatted Ryle's back to come to a halt as they neared a line of buildings with snow dusting their stone ledges. Jurij rounded behind the cart and heaved a crate up to his chest. Odell silently scurried to the door and rapped her knuckles on the metal. The door swung open, letting a golden glow shoo the darkness overlying the doorway away. A man poked his bald head out of the door with a grimace as a rush of cold air flew in.

"What do you want at this hour?" He asked tartly.

Jurij stomped towards him, jerking the crate out in front of him. "Your delivery, sir."

The man's narrowed eyes widened at the crate of flasks jingling in the crate. His wrinkled, but firm hands reached out for the crate. Jurij pulled back instantly and nodded at Odell.

"A shiny piece would make our hour," Jurij said, grinning a dark smirk, "Sir."

The man growled at the back of his throat. He shoved his hand into his pocket and quickly shoved five silver pieces in the girl's hand. He snatched the crate out of Jurij's grasp, slamming the door behind him. The door's slam echoed throughout the empty streets. Ryle clapped his hooves on the gravelly road as Jurij spat at the door, "I hope you choke."

He turned on his heel, stomping back to Ryle's reins and tugged him forward. Jurij glanced over at Odell.

"You coming or what?" He snapped.

The wheels of the cart creaked forward, crunching the icy gravel beneath it. Odell gripped the frayed end of her coat and trekked behind him. Her lips twisted, glancing at the back of Jurij's matted hair as she blurted out, "I know you're lying." Jurij froze, sparing her a glance over his shoulder. She jittered on one foot to the next. "You still miss her."

Jurij rolled his eyes. "What does it matter?"

"Because," she hesitated, biting her lip, "I know what it's like. Losing someone who should be your best friend to someone else."

"You know, it's still damn hard to get you when you talk like that." Jurij stepped towards her, tilting his head to the side.

She scratched the back of her neck, chuckling forcefully, "It's better not knowing everything." She cracked a frail grin. "Trust me, I know."

Jurij sighed, "I'd feel more trusting if I at least had a name. Unless you like Odell more." She fiddled with her coat again. "Three months and still nothing?"

"I like Odd." She shrugged.

"I wonder why?" Jurij rolled his eyes and smirked. Shoving Ryle's reins in Odd's hands, he said, "Then you can lead Ryle to the next drop off."

She fumbled with the tattered leather and gawked at the creature. "But that's almost two miles!"

"I know." She groaned at his sneer, pulling at the reins to no avail. Ryle snapped his jaws at her with each tug until Jurij tapped the donkey's back to move.

Once Ryle, with much stomping and snapping, moved, the buildings in the inner city grew taller the further they walked. Guards lined the corners of streets, eyeing Jurij and Odd through their steel caps up to their last delivery at the Patrol Block. The two eyed the bulky facility that took up half the street, the city's flag whipping fiercely with the wind. Odd bit her lip as a dank, musky odor wafted through the air; the clatter of crashes and curses making her heart ring in her ears.

"I thought…" She flinched at a hearty cry that erupted in the building. "I thought you said the Patrol lived here."

"They do." Jurij mumbled, his brows furrowing. "I never said they were civil."

Her breath caught in her throat as Jurij clapped his hand on her shoulder. "Stay out here." He whispered. "And stay close to Ryle. I won't be long."

She swallowed thickly, nodding as he cradled the last crate under his arm. He moved towards the large metal doors and raised his fist to the frame, cursing under his breath at his shaking hand. Odd watched the door swing in with Jurij being hustled inside by a man. The door's slam echoed in the air, accenting Odd's heartbeat.

Her coat glowed a dark copper under the lone lantern strung against the building. She leaned back against Ryle's furry side and glanced at the frosted rust coating the shambles of the building. Twining her fingers together, Odd rocked back and forth with each crash and guffaw that rumbled in the building until Ryle nudged his head at her. She froze and chuckled half heart fully.

"Sorry, Ryle," she sighed as the donkey snorted. "Guess I'm just a little-"

A hand clapped over mouth as she shrieked. She squirmed against large arms that held her in a vice like grip, the thundering of a beating heart resonating against her back making her grow ashen. The pungent scent of smoke and beer flooded her nostrils as she felt the ground fall under her. Her screams were muffled by the hand pressing down on her mouth; thick, sausage like fingers digging into her cheeks. Her boots flailed against the gravel as she was dragged into a narrow alleyway just as her teeth sank into her capturer's hand.

A grunted curse fell from his mouth as he slammed Odd against the wall. Pain throbbed at the back of her neck while the man chuckled, "I didn't know you were a biter Heimer." Her blood ran cold, a streak of lantern light dusting the thick black stubble and bruised skin staring down at her with dark eyes.

His lips pulled back into a sneer as he grabbed her cheeks. "But I'm sure that can be changed."

_Peder._

Andy felt every nerve of his body burn with each nauseous breath Peder plumed on him. The heavy stench of liquor made his eyes water while his stomach churned at the fingers digging into his cheeks.

"What's wrong Heimer?" Peder chuckled darkly. "What happened to that famous tongue of yours?"

Andy swallowed around the lump in his throat, squeaking, "I'm sorry."

Peder snorted, propping his arm over Andy's head. His fingers drummed against the wall lazily, trailing his eyes over his face.

"You should be. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get near you without that guard dog on you?" Andy quickly shook his head. "It's fucking hard."

Andy's fists clenched and unclenched as Peder pressed closer against him. The larger man tilted his head to the side, letting the hand holding him in place run down his cheek. Andy felt the stone wall's frost dig into his back.

"Though I guess it was worth the wait," Peder mused. His hand trailed down to the boy's hip and squeezed. A smirk crawled cross his grimy lips and ducked his head to Andy's ear, breathing heavily, "Time to pay your dues."

Andy's breath hitched at the back of his throat as Peder roughly pressed his self against him, as if trying to mold their frames together. The boy squirmed under the man rutting against him. His face paled as he felt something warm press against his thigh while Peder's hands clawed at the collar of his coat. Just as teeth nipped at his neck, pain bloomed across the boy's skin and jerked his knee upward. Lifting up through the heavy folds of the skirt, Andy's knee slammed into Peder's inner thigh. The man cursed under his breath and toppled back, cupping his groin warily.

"You little…" Peder growled through gritted teeth.

"S-stay away from me!" Andy's hands felt along the wall, forcing his self up on his wobbly knees. Andy skittered to the side only to fall back against the wall. His cheek throbbed as Peder's fist back handed him again. He crumbled onto the ground, the corner of his head throbbing while he felt his self shoved up against the icy stone.

Andy's heart leapt onto his tongue as he felt his dress being shuffled around his waist. Peder pressed the boy's arms against his back, using his free hand to yank at the frail underskirts underneath.

"N-no! Please don't-" Andy cried as his face was pressed harder against the ground. Gravel filled his mouth, muffling his cry as the sound of tearing fabric thundered in his ears.

"Will you shut up!" Peder snapped, shoving his face deeper on the ground. Andy felt his heart crack at the heated flesh pressing up behind him through the last shred of cloth; the nicks and stings of his ankle and limbs suddenly reawakening tenfold. Invisible hands groped at his arms and pounded heavier punches upon him as Peder snarled, "I paid good money for you. Now be a good bitch you whore!"

The last words and tear rang in Andy's ears. He clenched his eyes shut only to hear a strangled yelp greet his ears. Andy blinked, an icy chill roaming over his back as a hand gently touched his head. The boy whipped his head up to the side to find Peder sprawled on the ground with a trickle of red running down the side if his head. Andy gasped breathlessly, scrambling away from the man when he bumped into another. A shriek fell from his mouth as the man kneeled beside him with soft hushes.

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay," he whispered gently, blocking the boy's blind flailing of fists. Andy panted heavily; his fists weakly hitting the man's chest until he felt arms wind around him. The cool wind brushed against the tear tracks on his cheeks. Andy gulped in shuddering breaths as a hand brushed away the hair matted to his face. "You're okay now."

The soft, gentle voice coaxed the boy to look up. The lantern squeaked on its hinges with the wind's quiet howls, causing the light to flail about wildly. Andy's eyes widened as he stared up at the man's piercing blue eyes-and raven, black hair.

"Y-you?" Andy choked on a gasp, falling back from the man's grasp.

The man smiled sheepishly. "Yeah. Me." Andy's heartbeat began roaring in his ears again and glanced back at Peder's unconscious frame. "He's alive if that's what you're worried about. Though not too presentable if I say so myself."

The man smirked at Peder's opened trousers while Andy squirmed in his hold. The man stared at Andy, tentatively wrapping an arm around his back.

"It's okay," he whispered. "You can trust me."

Andy froze, the words nagging at the back of his mind yet refused to settle. He bit his lip as footsteps raced around the corner.

"Odell!" Jurij gasped, sweat dripping from his brow as he clung to the side of the wall. "Are you…"

He trailed off, blinking at an unconscious Peder and Andy with a stranger holding him. The man smiled softly, tilting his head to the side.

" _She's_ okay," he said. "You must be her brother. Pleased to meet you."


	17. Chapter 16

A knot burned in Andy’s stomach, searing to a boil as he watched another mug slide slam onto the table. Otto bowed his head for the umpteenth time and slid the mug across the table towards the man.

“You have no idea how grateful I am.” He breathed. He glanced over at Andy and licked his dry lips. “I…god knows what would have happened…”

The man raised a hand, a sheepish smile shrugging along his lips.

“You don’t have to thank me.” A black lock fell over his eye as he gently slid the mug back to Otto. Andy felt his skin crawl.

Otto’s brows furrowed. His lips twisted into a frown, slamming the mug in front of the man forcefully.

“Please.” His hand wrapped around the mug firmly. “She’s—” Otto paused, looking at Andy. In the copper flames whisking about on lonesome lanterns, Andy could see the dark circles stretching under Otto’s eyes. Thin sets of wrinkles and lines sketched over his jaw and cheeks; the wary, gray flecks in his eyes deepening the hollows in his gaze. “Important. Very important.”

Andy felt his heart sink ever so slightly as he turned away. The man nodded, reluctantly wrapping his fingers around the mug.

“If there’s something— _anything_ I can do for you, let me know.” Otto said, pounding his chest. “I’m in your debt.”

A wrinkle of a frown creased along the man’s brows. His lips strained to curve into a soft smile.

“Of course.” He said softly.

Otto sighed heavily and turned to Andy. His hand twitched toward him only to freeze and knock the table.

“You best get some rest.” He mumbled. “After you thank our guest again.” He turned on his heel and sauntered towards the back of the tavern.

Andy felt his heart spike up into his mouth, his fingers crushing around the thick skirt weighing down his legs. He swallowed quietly as the man took a sip from his mug. He arched an eyebrow at the clear liquor, smacking his lips.

“Strange.” He hummed, holding the mug in the air and squinting at it. “Most vodka doesn’t taste so syrupy.”

Andy’s knuckles popped under the table. “It’s mice wine.”

The man’s eyes widened quizzically, taking another sip and hummed once more, “Even better.” He sloshed the wine around in the mug. “I heard that mice are full of good omens as infants. Then they turn sour as soon as—”

“Why are you here?”

The man tilted his head towards the boy. Andy forced his chin up and shot him a heated glare. The man’s lips swerved into a lopsided grin, shrugging, “Your _brother_ insisted I come to repay me for saving you, apparently, his precious little sis—”

“You know what I mean!” Andy snapped in a hushed voice.

The grin faded from the man’s lips, his eyes dropping to the mug.

“You know,” he chuckled lowly, “you have a strange habit of siding with people who want to hurt you.”

Andy’s glare flickered slightly, yet kept his gaze on the other.

“I mean what do you want from me?”

The man blew bubbles in his wine and shrugged. “Nothing.” He stretched his arms up over his head, groaning at the muscles twisting with quiet pops. “I just hate bastards. But what I want to know is,” he propped his cheek on his fist, “why are _you_ here?”

Andy’s mouth opened then closed. He turned his gaze on the table, his fists tightening.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He murmured. His knuckles slowly grew ashen the harder he clenched. “This is my home. My life.”

“Really?” The man arched an eyebrow. Andy nodded firmly as the man frowned, his brow twitching irritably. “Your life is about drowning mice in wine in a dress.”

“Shut up.”

“Then you constantly get lost to be saved by strangers.” The man smirked. “Must be exciting to _reward_ them with your life in servitude.”

Andy’s nails bit through the fabric of the dress. His shoulders trembled, hissing, “Shut. Up.”

“And to top it all off,” the man’s smirk twisted into a sharp, wicked smile. “You throw yourself to wolves to have your body torn in half.” His voice dropped to a cold chuckle, “Your family must be _so_ proud.”

A loud screech whined in the air as Andy abruptly stood from his chair. The chair fell back with a clop while Andy grabbed a fistful of the man’s collar. The mug toppled over, splashing the wine across the table; making a dark brown creep through the light colored wood. His skin prickled with an icy flare that caused his blood to sickly gush through his veins at an abnormal rate. Andy’s palm crushed around the clasp holding the man’s cloak, viciously shaking him.

“ _Shut the hell up!_ ”Andy barked. “You don’t know anything! You don’t even know me! What gives you the damn right to talk about what I do?” The man stared at the trembling boy blankly, his knuckles brushing against the column of his neck. Andy dropped his head, feeling warmth begin to stir in his eyes as he blinked rapidly. He choked out, “You don’t know anything. This is where I belong…it’s where people like me always belong.”

The man stared at the boy a moment longer, his frown thinning into a line. Andy’s trembling rocked into him as he leaned his head back. Silence stirred between the two, the whispers of flames and candles filling the milliseconds in between.

“You’re right.” The man said. “I don’t have the right to talk about it. But,” He looked down at the boy. “I know well enough to know that this life of yours isn’t living.” Andy flinched, shakily raising his head up at the man. Icy, blue eyes burned into him as the man rested his hands on Andy’s arms, squeezing them gently. “This life you’re so proud of is _killing_ you.”

Andy’s jaw fell, his hands falling loose from the man’s collar. His throat constricted around his vocal chords, allowing meek garbles to fall from his lips. The man idly glanced down at the table.

“Aw, what a pity.” He clucked his tongue, drawing Andy’s gaze with his. They watched as the wine continued to seep through the wood, darkening more like blood than drink. “And I was going to drink that.”

Andy felt his clammy hand grasp onto the man’s shirt, scrunching it in his fist. The man blinked down at him.

“Seriously,” Andy murmured. “Tell me, honestly, who are you?”

The man’s lit eyes dimmed into a cold glint. He gently grasped Andy’s hand, leaning into him until his breath—fragile as mint—softly caressed his face.

“I told you,” the man whispered. “ _I’ll be whoever you want me to be._ ”

Andy felt his mouth run dry, feeling his swollen tongue dab in the parched cavern for a sentence—a word to say. Yet, the screech of a door and stomping took care of that. Jurij slammed the front door behind him, snatching his snow dusted cap from his head. He scratched his rusty, red hair, icy flakes falling onto his shoulders, and looked up. The man flicked a quick glance at Jurij and pulled away from Andy.

“My father took well care of you, yes?” Jurij asked.

The man nodded, a lighthearted smile easing across his lips. Jurij let out a sigh of relief then frowned as his gaze landed on Andy. He nudged his boot into the wooden floorboards. “I thought you’d be resting.”

Andy blinked, yanking his hands away from the man.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered. “I just…wanted to thank him again.”

Jurij’s brows furrowed in response while the man asked, “So, it’s done?”

Jurij scratched his neck and nodded with a sigh. “It’s done.”

Andy arched an eyebrow at him.

“You brother went back to talk with the Patrol council about what happened,” the man chimed. “Now that dreadful man is getting the punishment he deserves.”

Andy’s eyes widened and looked back at Jurij. He darted his eyes away from him, cracking his knuckles as he mumbled, “Yeah.”

Andy pressed his lips together until the man patted his shoulder.

“Now that you’re alright.” He said. “I better be on my way.”

Jurij paused, shrugging out of his heavy coat. “You can’t be serious. It’s starting to come down out there. Tonight’s storm is going to be horrible.”

He flashed Jurij a smile and squeezed Andy’s shoulder. “That’s the best time to go out.” Jurij ogled the man curiously, his lips thinning. “Thank you for your hospitality, but would you mind if I had one last moment with your sister.”

Jurij’s brows knitted together and grunted his approval. He stomped past them to the back of the tavern. Andy stared after him as the man’s hand slid off his shoulder. The wind howled against the tavern, whipping across thick bricks and whistling through holes. The man sucked in a deep breath and sighed.

“Seems like a good one tonight.” He said, his eyes twinkling in delight. Andy shrugged away from him with his gaze casted on the floor. “Do you know why we drown baby mice?” Andy blinked up at the man as he set the spilt mug right side up. The man’s eyes lingered on the dark smear of wine in the wood. “They’re full of good omens, you know? But just when their innocence could go on forever, do you know what happens?”

Andy remained silent. He watched the man from behind, his figure even darker than the shadow stretching out from under him.

“They realize survival.” The man’s voice cracked into an icy hiss. Andy felt an arctic chill creep up his bones and shuddered. “They realize what it means to survive and throw away their childhood like it’s nothing, but garbage.”

His hands balled up into fists at his sides. The flames in the lanterns flailed weakly against the plummeting temperature in the tavern as Andy rubbed his arms. The man idly flung his neck behind him with a twisted—solemn—smirk.

“Isn’t that awful?”

Andy tried to shrug against his quaking muscles to no avail, simply nodding his head with a mouthful of chattering teeth. The man sighed, letting his shoulders droop. The temperature in the air rose once more, albeit slightly warmer than before. The man tightened the clasp on his cloak that, now that Andy looked closely at it, was a scattered with flints of silver across the white fabric—and a small hint of reddened pink on the edges following his feet.

“Well that’s enough of my babbling.” He grasped Andy’s hand and tenderly brushed his lips against his knuckles. “It was a pleasure meeting you again my fair maiden.”

Andy flushed, snatching his hand out of the man’s grasp.

“Such a bashful lady,” the man chuckled under Andy’s glare. He brushed past Andy towards the door. His hand rested on the handle and paused. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

Andy flinched and quickly smoothed his stature as he crossed his arms, turning away from the man.

“As long as I can.” He said tartly.

The man stared at the thick, metal handle, rolling the boy’s words in his mind.

“Then in that case, you better be wary of rats.”

“Rats?” Andy’s brows rose.

“They’re what mice become once they’re devoured.” The man shrugged.

“We don’t have rats.” Andy spat irritably.

“ _Everyone’s a rat._ ” Silence speared between them until the man spoke again. “But whenever you’re done murdering yourself, you know where to find me.”

Andy scoffed, “I don’t even know you.”

The silence that prickled this time was bitterer than the last as the man murmured ever so quietly, “You’d be surprised.”

Andy barely caught his words and turned around. His jaw slacked at the empty space where he once stood. The wind whirled again, sounding more like a wail than the strong howl it was moments ago. The boy sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He grimaced. He brought his hands down, seeing dark brown earth sliding down his fingers.

“Is it really so wrong,” he laughed humorlessly into the whispers of flames, “to be killing myself so peacefully?”

A knock rattled on Jurij’s door in the middle of the night, much to the man’s chagrin. Yet, it wasn’t like he had fallen asleep either. He groaned into the arm thrown over his face.

 _Can’t Da bite my ear off in the morning?_ He thought bitterly as the knock shook the door again. He frowned and threw the raggedy sheet he rummaged for off him. He stalked over to the door, flinging it open with a scowl on his face.

“Da, can we please not—” He trailed off at the aqua, blue eyes staring up at him. “O-Odell—I mean Odd. I mean…what are you doing here?”

Andy casted his gaze down at the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels nimbly.

“I,” he stumbled over his words, flushing madly. “Do you think I can stay here with you?” His heart stuttered in his chest as he murmured, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Jurij felt his heart twinge and held the door wide open. He nodded his head towards the room with Andy shuffling inside. Jurij closed the door behind him gently and scratched the back of his neck.

“You can take the bed.” He said. “I wasn’t gettin’ much sleep anyway.”

“No, it’s fine. We can share.” Jurij arched an eyebrow at him as Andy looked away.

Jurij sighed, sliding onto the thin mattress and beckoned Andy to follow. Andy slid along beside him while he pulled the sheet over them both. An uncomfortable silence blanketed the two, the wind occasional tangling with the shutters on the roof. Jurij bit his lip, looking at everything in the dark bedroom that wasn’t Andy’s figure and froze. The boy tapped his head against the man’s chest, curling ever so slightly into him.

“O…”

“I’m sorry.” Andy’s fists crushed the fabric of his nightgown. Another light sob tore out of him. “I’m sorry.”

Jurij frowned solemnly at the boy burying his face against his chest and forced his arm to wrap around him. Andy flinched into the warm hand steadying his trembling back.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Jurij whispered. “I was the one who left you out there.”

“But,” Andy stuttered over a hiccup. “If he had…he would’ve found…”

He lost his breath as Jurij crushed him against his larger frame. Andy froze, the smell of smoke and iron radiating off of the man’s collarbone. Jurij rested his chin on top of Andy’s muck raked head with a sigh.

“I envy you.” Andy blinked as heat crawled through his cheeks. “I wouldn’t—couldn’t even live if that son of a bitch finished what he started. Much less in a dress.” His hand cradled the back of Andy’s head. “And here you are, begging for forgiveness because some damn secret was almost let loose. I could never do that.”

Andy felt salty warmth prick the corners of his eyes. “But I couldn’t house an outsider like you and Otto.”

“Please,” Jurij rolled his eyes. “You would do that and more…even if you don’t think you can.”

Andy let out a watery chuckle then fell silent.

“Did Odell ever let you hold her?”

Jurij frowned, his fingers combing through Andy’s hair. “No.”

“Does it make me wrong to let you?”

“…no.”

Andy’s eyes drooped, feeling Jurij’s heartbeat pound softly against his ear.

“Jurij?” Jurij hummed in response. “Thank you.”

Jurij’s chest constricted around his heart, asking, “Does it make me wrong to _like_ holding you?”

Andy’s fingers scrunched against the thin shirt stretching over Jurij’s shoulders and shrugged sleepily.

“I don’t think there’s a clear definition of wrong in the world anymore.”

Jurij nodded. The hand combing through Andy’s hair inched down to his cheek, his fingers twitching to curl around the boy’s chin. Andy’s eyelids grew heavier as he breathed, “Jurij.”

“Yes?” Jurij’s thumb absentmindedly brushed over Andy’s chin, his eyes lingering on his mouth.

“What was…” Andy yawned. “Peder talking about…that he paid good money for Odell?”

Jurij froze; his heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach. His hand yanked away from Andy as if he was burned and tucked his arm under his head. He turned away from Andy abruptly, grunting, “Hell should I know. Odell did plenty of things without Da and I knowing.”

Andy blinked. “But—”

“Just drop it, okay?” The man turned back around, this time resting his hand on Andy’s shoulder. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Andy frowned, reluctantly nodding against Jurij as slumber lulled them under its spell. Yet, as Andy glanced up at Jurij one last time, he swore the faintest glint of anger flare in his eyes—and an overwhelming shade of sadness.


	18. Chapter 17

_"What do you wish for?" Andy blinked, the voice giggling ever so quietly. "If you could, what would you wish for? More than anything else in the world, what would it be?"_

_Andy hummed to his self, tiny fingers tapping his chin. He brows furrowed together and he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air._

_"How should I know?" He plopped his arms at his sides with a huff. The voice beside him giggled again as snow blue petals shook through the air. Andy lips curled into a pout, glaring at the icy orbs roaming across the black sky like shunned stars._

_"Well what do you wish for?" He snapped._

_"Hmm." Though Andy's eyes were locked on the fragments of night and ice drifting around them idly, he could feel the thoughtful smile bubbling in the other's voice. "I wish to get out of here."_

_Andy arched an eyebrow. "You can already do that."_

_"Not like that." Andy felt cool fingers wrap around his wrist and pull his arm up in the air. Bone white fingers intertwined with peachy ones, carefully splaying their fingertips. Andy blinked up at the cage their hands made over the sky._

_"I want to get out…and not just touch the world," the other clenched his fingers into a fist, "but hold it until it's my own." The other shifted towards Andy, a faint smile curling along his lips. "You'll help me get there, right?"_

_Andy's jaw snapped back into place as he stared at the face looking down at him expectantly. Yet, before he could reply, the childish face began to blur. He pressed his elbows down on the ground, writhing against black weeds that began wrapping around him. The ground beneath him crumbled until he felt his self being dragged down. A startled cry fell into a thick weed firmly clasped around Andy's mouth._

_Through the thundering of his pulse in his ears and rippling of earth collapsing, the trembling boy caught the faintest giggle above him. Quickly blinking through the tears racing down his face, Andy caught sight of his companion grinning madly at him when a crack split across his face._

_Andy's eyes widened, his trembling seeping from his skin straight to his bones, as the cracks splintered one after another over the other's face. Just as the fragile petals whirled down into the abyss , the other's face crumbled; pieces of the cracked face falling past Andy. A fractal of the shattered face fluttered by Andy's ear, a lone question echoing in the abyss:_

_"You'll help me, right Andy?"_

A scream caught at the back of Andy's throat, the tight squeeze around his vocal chords snapping his back straight up from bed. He blindly grasped his neck and coughed roughly, wheezing as his lungs greedily drank in the musky air. His shoulders shook with each breath until he swallowed thickly. Andy forced his eyelids to open, squinting through the watery kaleidoscope of his eyes.

A dull, gray light filled the room, softly dusting the shadows of late evening into dawn. The gravel and dirt littered the floorboards while flakes of the wall peeled back. Andy blinked; his fingers scrunched around the blanket in his hands and sighed.

 _Right_. Andy thought. He flushed lightly at the memory of crawling to Jurij's room with a shard of shame gripping his stomach. _Well, maybe not crawling…_

Andy's fingers fiddled with the loose threads of the blanket for a moment longer, letting the fabric nip at the bare parts of his legs. He flicked his gaze up at the small window overhead. At the dusky light flittering through, he groaned into his hands and flung his legs over the side of the bed. He stretched his arms in the air, relishing in the sound of his spine popping when his hand fell back on the bed. He turned towards the other side of the bed to find it bare. The corners of Andy's lips swayed to a frown.

"A wake up call would have been nice." He grumbled halfheartedly.

He moved towards the door and left the room, gently shutting the door behind him. The floorboards creaked under his footsteps as he maneuvered through the back of the tavern towards the kitchen. The lanterns had long since burned out, soot dusting the sides of the glasses, holding pools of shadows down the hallway. Andy shivered, eyeing the walls warily. Even after three months, the shadows were nothing but foreign to him.

He sped up his walk and poked his head into the kitchen. He jumped at the sight of Otto leaning over the table. The elder man's eyes were locked on a mug until Andy came in. He slowly drew his eyes up from the rim of the mug and blinked up at Andy. The boy returned the blank stare, shuffling from foot to foot. He tugged the side of his nightgown over his shoulder and bit the inside of his cheek.

 _Are nightgowns always this big?_ He pondered absentmindedly. He squinted down at the dark brown fabric. _Or maybe it’s the color that's throwing me off. It's probably the color. Is everything here brown…_

A low grunt shook Andy from his thoughts. He brought his head up to stare into dark eyes boring into him. The man tapped his fingers on the table, arching his brow at Andy. The boy gulped and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry?" He asked.

Otto closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, before grunting, "Sit."

Andy raced to the table and threw his self in a chair. Otto mumbled something under his breath and looked at the mug again. Andy's teeth nicked his cheek as he twined his fingers together in his lap, tapping his foot against the leg of the table. The silence popped in his ears until the man took a swig from the mug. Andy arched an eyebrow, frowning at the heavy gulps and bobbing Adam's apple.

"It's water." Otto said, wiping his mouth with his palm. "No need to run and tell Jurij that now." Andy shrunk back in his seat, wincing at the wooden rungs digging into his back. Otto ran a tongue over his lips, half spitting the metallic tang from his mouth, and hesitantly glanced at Andy. "How you feeling?"

"Fine." Andy stuttered, balling the nightgown in his fists. He watched Otto nod slightly while his eyes flicked to the mug again. Andy's knuckles popped in his grip. "I-I'm sorry I didn't get up earlier." The boy began to rise from his seat. "I'll start mixing the brew now. No one will get in till-"

" _Sit_."

Andy plopped his self back in the chair. Otto sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Do I seem that heartless?" Andy frowned, earning a low chuckle from the man. Otto propped his cheek on his fist. "I'll take that as a yes."

"N-no." Andy said. He forced his gaze on the table, his voice cracking, "There are others far worse."

"Well that's a relief. I'm not completely heartless." Andy snorted and quickly slapped a hand over his mouth. Otto's lips shrugged into a half pitying grin, waving his hand as if dismissing the laughter. His grin faded as he tapped the table again with his index and middle fingers. "Boy," Andy flinched at the word, glancing out the door in spite of his self. Otto rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Andy's cheeks blanched at the question. "W-what?"

"I mean it." Otto leaned over the table, the wood creaking under his elbows. "What are you doing here?"

Andy ogled the man. In the three months of orders, reprimanding, and silence, the man had never asked about his old life. Never asked how he was in the woods by chance when Jurij found him. Never asked why he was here. And that question turned Andy's stomach inside out.

"I," Andy choked on his words, his brow furrowing. He stared at his hands in his lap and bit his lip. Thoughts he had kept at bay for three months collapsed in his consciousness, coursing through his veins with a burning laugh that stung his limbs. He blinked away the salty sting in his eyes and swallowed heavily, murmuring hoarsely, "I wish I knew."

Otto watched the boy slowly crumble, yet hold his self firm. He sighed and flicked the mug. The mug slid across the table with a heavy screech, coming to halt in front of Andy. He blinked at the mug quizzically.

"Go on," Otto swayed his hand to the mug while rising from the chair.

Andy frowned, grasping the mug in his hands and took a tentative sip. He tongue instantly reeled back from the liquid and slammed the mug back on the table. He spat the liquid from his mouth, gagging heavily.

"You said this was water," he choked through splutters.

Otto shrugged. "With a little bit of moonshine."

Andy dragged his hand over his mouth when a hand clapped his shoulder. Andy peered up at Otto, whose head was turned away from him.

"I don't know who you used to be, boy. And maybe I really don't want to know," he said. His hand gripped his shoulder firmer. "But I meant what I said last night," he turned his gaze to him, eyes brimming with a foreign softness, "You are important. To me and Jurij."

Andy's jaw dropped as Otto removed his hand. His heart stuttered warmly until Otto smacked the back of his head. "Now get back to bed. I don't have any use for the bleedin'."

Andy pouted at the sting pulsing at the back of his head, yet found his self on his feet instantly. He snatched the mug from the table and walked past Otto towards the main room of the tavern, turning on his heel towards the cellar. Otto felt his brow twitch and sighed.

"I said get back to bed!" Otto snapped.

Andy poked his head up from the cellar. Otto glowered at him, the thin lines around his mouth scrunched into an upside down smile that didn't match the frown on his mouth. Yet, the faintest hint of amusement curled on the other side of his frown, almost daring the boy to retaliate. Andy's lips twitched into a sheepish grin he couldn't force away, replying, "I'm not bleedin' yet."

The week had gone by agonizingly slow; the seldom guest that wandered into the tavern merely ordering a cup of hot water and sitting by the fire. "Wretched cold," they always cursed, "Gets worse by the year." Otto merely nodded as he took their cups from them, watching intently as they straggled to the door. Andy groaned as another gust of wind swirled through the tavern, leaving an aching chill in his bones. He swept a rag across the table near the door, losing count of how many times he had cleaned it, and winced. A glimmer of his reflection lingered on the water just above the wood.

A darkening pink bruise throbbed at the corner of his forehead while thin cuts littered the sides of his cheeks. The water quickly seeped into the wood before he could examine anymore. He threw the rag on the table with a frown and stretched. The quiet pops in his back only made his frown deeper, wincing at locked knobs.

 _Great_ , he thought. _Now I'm an old woman!_

He rolled his shoulders before, reluctantly, leaning over the table to snatch the rag. He sauntered to the next table. The rag barely brushed against the wood when Otto's voice rumbled, "Damn it!"

Andy tossed the rag over his shoulder as he followed the sound of the man's voice. Andy found Otto glaring at the cupboard. His heated gaze settled on the bottles lining the shelves of the cupboard where several clean spots amidst blankets of dust laid instead of bottles and flasks.

"I'm going to kill that boy." Otto snarled.

Andy sighed, scratching the back of his neck, "What is it?"

"Three bottles. Three bottles of Onwu, gone!" The man slammed his fist against the cupboard. Andy eyed him warily, taking a step back from him as he turned around. He stomped past the boy, grumbling curse after curse under his breath.

"I'm sure he only took it for a good reason." Andy said quietly. "And it was only three bottles."

Otto froze, the muscles in his back rippling to a halt like snakes. Andy sucked in a sharp breath at the storm stirring beneath gray orbs. Otto's fingers flexed and un-flexed from fists.

"Onwu," he hesitated, "isn't for drinking." Andy's brows knitted together while Otto groaned. He stomped to the front of the tavern, yanking his coat from the coat rack beside the door, and shoved his arms in. "Just keep an eye on the place."

"Wait, but where are you-"

"Just stay!" Buttons flopping loosely on the jacket, Otto flung the door open.

Andy winced at the arctic chill whipping through the tavern as Otto stormed outside. The door slammed behind him loudly, leaving Andy frozen by the counter. Andy wrapped his arms around his self and eyed the empty tavern. Each creak of the wood and whistle of the wind growing louder than before.

"It's just the wind," he murmured, shaking his head. "It's just the wind."

The broom leaning against the wall caught his eye. Andy quickly snatched it in hand and began sweeping across the floor, leading dust and dirt into a pile. After going around the whole room, Andy's fingers twitched for the rags discarded on the counter. The thrumming of weathered fabric and bristles push the creaking of the tavern to the back of Andy's mind; his body moving as automatically to each room he could think of. Andy flexed his shriveled and dust caked fingers, nudging a bucket to the side of a table. He leaned against the table's edge and groaned at the creaking winding through the tavern once more.

Andy flicked his gaze across the tavern; not a soul had entered since Otto stepped out and tavern's attempt at conversation laced Andy's skin with goosebumps. He ran his tongue over the ridged teeth imprints in his cheek as a low whine pierced through the heavy whirl of the wind.

"Ryle." He hung his head, casting a mournful glance at the fireplace. He forced his legs towards the coat rack by the door and slowly shrugged into his coat. After fastening the buttons in place, he patted down the heavy fabric over his dress. Andy slung his cap over his head and begrudgingly trudged to the back door.

He quickly laced the ties of the cap under his chin and opened the door only to instantly regret it. A blast of arctic air sucked his breath away as he stood before a thinly shoveled trail amidst mountains of snow. Andy wrapped an arm around his self, using the other to shield his eyes from the blinding white glowing off the towering mounds. The boy warily glanced at the thicket of hay lodging up out of a bucket and groaned. He snatched the hay in his grasp, tucking it under his arm.

"You owe me Ryle," he scowled through chattering teeth. He kicked a stone between the crack of the door as he opened it, propping it open before it could lock his self out. His boots crunched along the frozen gravel, twisting his frame to the side as snow dusted his shoulders. "So, owe me."

Andy pushed the door to the warehouse inward, quickly skirting over to the stall where Ryle whined and nipped at the wooden boards caging him. The creature's coal, black eyes stared at Andy curiously before snorting lightly. He nudged his head, tiny slivers of ice fringing his mangled mane, against Andy. The boy cracked a smile and forced his fingers to uncurl from his sides. He knocked the ice fractals from Ryle's mane and tossed the hay over the stall door. Ryle immediately jerked his head back, stretching his neck down to chomp on the pale brown strands. Andy's grin faded as he watched the donkey's blunt, yellow teeth tear apart the hay, trailing his gaze over the knobby shoulders that protruded from under his fur.

He bit his lip, forcing his eyes away from traveling towards Ryle's ribs that were growing more noticeable.

"Looks like I'm not the only one dying," Andy murmured. Ryle's shoulders rolled with each jerk downwards, his tongue now flicking out to grasp any wayward strands on the ground. Andy rested his chin on the railing of the stall. "Hey Ryle, do you know you're dying?" Ryle's ears twitched. "Or do you just accept it in stride?"

Ryle twisted his neck towards him and snorted, resting his own head over the stall's railing. Andy turned his head, blinking at his reflection in the creature's black eyes and choked on a laugh. The brown muck combed through his hair stuck out from under his cap, draping over his cheeks that seemed more sunken than usual. He tilted his head at Ryle.

"Point taken." He mused. "We both look awful." Ryle pulled back and drove his head down into a sparse bed of hay beside him as Andy's playful grin melted. He blinked. Then blinked again before holding his head in his hands. "And I'm talking to a donkey."

The faintest jingle creaked through the air and brushed by Andy's ears. His brows furrowed. He leaned away from the stall and trailed over to the warehouse's door. He closed the door behind him, shuffling along the trail again while wincing at the snow that fell on his shoulders, and knocked the stone by the door to the side. He rushed to the main room of the tavern, shrugging off his coat as he walked and froze.

Four men stood in the middle of the room, heavy dusts of snow lingering on their black overcoats. The red seal of the Wall's Patrol glimmered dully on their shoulders. Their towering frames filled out the expanse of the room, rejecting the huff of blaze crackling from the fireplace; like shadows revolting against the nature of light. Andy gulped as quietly as he could until one of the men turned towards him. A grin quickly crept over his lips that sent a chill tickling Andy's spine. The boy stepped behind the counter as the man approached, his footsteps thundering heavy in Andy's ears. The man draped his long arms over the counter and tilted his head.

"Odell, right?" He arched an unruly, black eyebrow. Andy nodded hesitantly, earning a wider smile from the man. He stretched out a hand to him. "You remember me, don't you? Gostav." His hand found Andy's, yanking it into a firm hold. Andy bit back a yelp as his knuckles popped in the other's grip. "You're brother and I are close friends."

Andy gently tugged his hand out of Gostav's grip, tenderly rubbing his knuckles behind his back. "I'm sorry, of course I remember you." Andy bit his cheek, raking his memories of Jurij's teachings from the past three months. He eyed Gostav's square jaw, peppered with a fine line of brown stubble, and his hard brown eyes pinning him to the spot. His mangled locks brushed against the corner of his forehead that seemed to press out from the rest of his skull as if his skin didn't fit him. Andy swallowed thickly. "I just don't recall you being here for the past couple of months."

Gostav chuckled, scratching the back of his head, "It has been a while since I've been here."

From the corner of his eye, Andy caught a glimpse of the black lion peeking out from his sleeve along the man's wrist. At least one member of each family within the walls had to bear the lion as a form of identification, like Jurij, yet Andy found his self sick to his stomach every time his eyes fell upon the tattoo twisting against pale skin as if it would devour its host in an instant. Gostav set his hand back on the counter, his grin morphing into a thin line.

"That aside, how are you feeling?" Andy blinked, shaking his self out of his daze.

"Fine. Better…now anyway," he stumbled over his words. He stretched his neck to glance over Gostav's shoulder to find the three men merely standing firm in the center of the room. They returned Andy's blank stare with glassy pupils, eliciting a shiver to run down Andy's spine. The boy pressed his palms on his flushed cheeks. "I'm sorry. What will you be having?"

Gostav waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, we didn't come here for a drink." Andy fought against the twitch upon his brows that were begging to rise, forcing his hands behind his back as he stared at the man expectantly. Gostav flicked his eyes over his shoulder at the men behind him with a empty smirk and looked back at Andy. "Your…incident along with many others brought upon a new light among the Patrol and Council. Being the last of civilization in these mountains, we thought it be best to lay out some new rules of surveillance and such."

"Oh." Andy said. "And what other…incidents," the word curdled sourly on his tongue, "brought out this decision."

Gostav's airy smile melded into a frown. The counter's edge dug into his firm side as he tapped his fingers on the wood.

"It's awful really. Pests outside the wall attacking us when we travel out, them trying to climb over into our sanctuary, some of us even smuggling outsiders through the wall-"

The air around Andy instantly grew thin, strangling his lungs mercilessly. His fingers tangled themselves in the fabric of his dress as Gostav went on, each word merely plucking at Andy's heart like a knife teasing a string. He swallowed around the bow welling in his throat and forced his self to nod along with Gostav.

"S-sounds awful." Andy strained to keep his voice steady.

"Of course." Gostav sighed. "But remember Odell, if you see anything out of place you let us know as soon as possible." Andy nodded quickly as Gostav leaned closer to him. "You will let us know, right? It's our duty to maintain the Wall."

Andy could have sworn his brain trembled from how fast he shook his head, earning a wide smile from Gostav. He leaned back from the counter and turned on his heel towards the other men, lumbering towards the door. Andy watched the puddles pooled around their boots fling into droplets across the floor as they walked before Gostav paused.

"Odell." Andy's back stiffened instantly at the carefree tone. Gostav, hand resting on the knob of the door, swung back on his heels. "Jurij mentioned that someone reached you before he did. Who was he?"

The muscles in Andy's shoulders groaned against the bones trying to relax as he shrugged, "I'm not sure. It was too dark to really see. He left before I could ask."

Gostav hummed, the smile on his face never faltering as he trained his dark eyes on Andy. Andy felt his skin prickle the longer he stared until Gostav nodded.

"Shame. We could have used him on the new Patrol."

Andy shrugged, mumbling his agreement as the door opened. He whipped his head up, watching the dark frames of the men blaze across a horizon of white at the door.

"Gostav?" The man paused, arching an eyebrow at the boy. Andy's fingers clenched around the counter's edge. "What…what will happen to…"

A sly, empty smile crept along the man's lips as he tilted his head to the side. The icy wind that swept through the tavern barely nipped Andy's skin until Gostav said, "That awaits to be seen until the last of our new Patrol is gathered. Though he won't be bothering anyone again I assure you. You just get your rest." Andy nodded, sagging against the counter. He watched as the men filed out into the cold when Gostav chuckled lowly, "Your voice is starting to crack."

As the door closed, Andy's heart latched onto his chest. He caught the faintest glitter of a wink as Gostav's frame disappeared behind the door. His knees buckled, leaving Andy to slide to the floor and pull his legs to his chest.

_Damn._

The shadows felt warm upon Andy's back as he sank deeper into the mattress, burying his self in the darkness of the room. He hugged his pillow close to his chest; half hoping the feathers would suffocate the pounding of his heart while he simply drowned in the ragged fabric scratching his skin. He turned aimlessly in the bed, the empty lumps of cotton and sheer plain of wood molding along his spine. Yet the pain was only a fleeting pinch in his muscles. A pinch he wished was the only thing he felt.

He opened his eyes and cursed under his breath. An onyx, black sky greeted him yet again. He buried his face into the pillow with a groan.

 _How long can night possibly last?_ He wondered bitterly.

After Gostav's visit earlier that day, Andy had recleaned the entire tavern again-ducking around the windows carefully. He eyed the door every few minutes, waiting for Jurij or Otto to barge in to brag about a deal of mice they snagged or how the metal shop was tittering on implosion. Yet the day burnt out without any familiar voices or customers, leaving Andy with the creaking tavern to keep him company.

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, slamming his face into the pillow.

"Damn it," he mumbled into the cotton. Andy sighed deeply, the scent of iron tickling his nose as he forced his eyes close again. "Just go to sleep. _Go. To. Sleep_."

His arms wrapped around the pillow tighter. The boy shifted around the pillow, grasping the fluffy mound as if it were another body. He pressed his head down to nuzzle the pillow when a slam rippled throughout the tavern. A series of stomps and voices filled the main room of the tavern soon after. Andy bolted straight up, a weight lifting from his chest as he clambered out from the bed. Just as his feet were about to brush the floor, the voices quickly turned into harsh barks. Andy blinked, inching towards the door of the room tentatively. He cracked the door open slightly, barely enough to make a creak, and flinched at the shouts echoing from the main room.

"—don't you walk away from me!" Otto snapped, earning a groan from Jurij.

Andy pressed his ear to the crack of the door and swallowed thickly. He heard a stomp and slam against wood.

"What else do you want me to say?" Jurij practically growled. "That I'm sorry? Cause I'm not!" He chuckled bitterly, "And here I thought you'd actually be proud of me for once."

"Proud?" Andy could hear the man's face scrunch in fury. His brow wrinkled into a scowl as he glared at Jurij. "What dead part of your head thought I'd be proud of this? Hell, you being dead would be greater than this shit you've concocted."

Jurij winced, his blood roaring in his ears as he slammed his fist on a table.

"How blind can you be? The wall is falling and you're too busy getting drunk out of your mind to notice! Yes, I was brash. _Fucking stupid even._ But at least I'm doing something!"

Otto snorted darkly, "Right, being a little call boy is doing something."

Andy heard Jurij suck in a sharp breath, picturing his brows falling over his eyes while his nose flared just before throwing something down on the ground. He braced his self against the door, eardrums awaiting the crash that would silence their argument until the next one surfaced-yet no sound came. Andy blinked, listening to Jurij's shallow breathing and Otto's mild shuffling from foot to foot. The odd puncture of routine roamed through the tavern like a fog, holding back its creaking and groaning to leave room for the outbreak. Andy's fingers clenched around the door.

Otto always stood his ground of calm.

Jurij was never silent.

Another minute of quiet caused Andy's breath to catch at the back of his throat. Another moment past when Jurij sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Fine."

Andy swore he heard Otto's eyes topple from his sockets at the soft response. Jurij flashed a stony glance at Otto. "You're right. I'm wrong, always wrong, but even you can see the cracks in the wall." Jurij tapped his fist on the table with a frown. "And I'm not going to be crushed under it anymore."

Footsteps bounded out of the main room without any following. Andy ran his tongue over his lips, coughing slightly at the dry muscle that greeted him instead and quickly closed the door. He stumbled towards the bed and threw his self under the covers when the door opened. Jurij blinked at the boy's back turned away from the door, quietly shutting the door behind him. He pulled his gloves off his hands, idly mumbling, "How much did you hear?"

Andy flinched, mumbling, "Enough."

Jurij strode over to the bed and sank along its edge, the small of his back brushing against Andy's shoulder.

"Didn't mean to wake you. Nightmares?" Andy shook his head, shrugging under the flimsy blankets . "Did something happen when we were gone?"

Andy sighed, rolling over to stare at Jurij's back. "Gostav dropped by."

"Did he." Jurij snorted. "Was he already half drunk on his way in? Or did he just have people drag him?"

Andy rose from the bed, sighing, "No. He was sober. Just came by to talk about the new rules." Jurij hummed in response, leaning down to yank his boots off when Andy ran his hands down his face. "He knows."

Jurij's shoulders tensed. "What?"

"I-I didn't say anything I swear!" Andy stuttered. "He just had this look like he knew. I don't know how he—"

"Don't worry about Gostav." Andy's babbling withered instantly at the hand clamped around his shoulder. He could see the frown lines etched deep around Jurij's mouth mirror themselves under his eyes. "Just leave him to me alright."

"But…"

Andy groaned as Jurij's fingers dug into his shoulder. Jurij gaze bore into him with a heated glare.

"I thought you of all people would trust me." He grumbled.

"I do-"

"Then just leave him to me! Please?"

Andy trembled under the amethyst orbs that seem to swirl with a foreign storm he couldn't tell apart from the man. He swallowed thickly and nodded, relishing in the way his skin rose as Jurij pulled his hand away. Jurij plopped back on the edge of the bed and rolled his neck to the side with a sigh. He motioned for Andy to scoot over and slid into the bed beside him. The boy shuffled towards the wall, watching Jurij throw an arm under his head.

"Don't worry," he murmured. A grin slowly shrugged across his lips. "Things are going to change around here. Big changes. And they're going to happen real soon."

Andy merely stared at him, at the giddy way the light in his eyes danced at the thoughts whirling in his head, then down at the coat tightly wrapped around his shoulders. The boy felt his stomach tightened as his eyes landed on the red seal of a lion with wings coil along Jurij's shoulder.

"Jurij." The man hummed in response. "Where did you get that jacket?"

Jurij cracked an eye open to glance at his shoulder. "Oh, that." The knot in Andy's stomach burned at the nonchalant air lacing his words. "Just a little gift from the Patrol."

"Aren't you supposed to be in the shop tonight?" Otto asked one night as he closed the tavern.

Jurij shrugged, flicking the collar of his black coat tight around his neck. "Quit last week."

Otto nearly dropped the glass in his hand on the floor while Andy gawked at the man. His arguments were short lived as Jurij shuffled near the door. "They need more men on watch. The pests outside are getting more wild these nights."

Andy could hear the smirk in his voice as he slammed the door behind him without another word. He stared at the door when Otto sighed wearily, "Get a move on." He blew out the last of the lanterns in the main room, save for the one in his hand. "They'll think we're breaking curfew if we stay up any longer."

Andy tucked a bundle of linen under his arm, careful not to squish the bread against his side. His nose wrinkled at the mossy green blooming along the tip of the bread's flaking crust, then shook his head. The woman running the shop spent all morning digging up a loaf that wasn't nibbled on by rats-this was nothing.

He turned around the corner of the street and skittered to a halt. A hoard of Patrol men lingered around a building, one by one pecking through the weather beaten house. A man gritted his teeth, pressing his child closer behind him while the Patrol crashed through. One of the Patrol men poked his head out. He wordlessly held out his gloved hand that grasped a thin arm of another person who clawed at their arm. The man of the house tensed as the Patrol man nodded his head towards the child.

One of the others snatched the child and threw him over his shoulder, merely pushing the man back. Andy heard a soft crack beside him and turned his gaze towards his side. Morsels of bread crumbs flurried to the icy ground. He bit his lip and forced his self to turn around, marching the long way to the tavern as the air grew colder than before.

"Hey."

Andy groaned. His eyes cracked open as fingers gently tapped the side of his face to be greeted with Jurij's soft smile. The boy rolled his shoulders, his muscles sighing in relief once he moved away from the wall. The blanket he pulled around his shoulders pooled around his waist as he rubbed his eyes.

"How long was I out?" Andy asked through a yawn.

Jurij shrugged, "I just came in." His eyes lit up as he shuffled around and dug in his coat pocket. "I got something for you."

Andy blinked in the dark hallway and the faint outline of Jurij's frame as he fished through his pockets. He ran his eyes over the man's clean jawline, save for a few scratches littering his chin, and the black bags rimming under his eyelids. The dark crescent seemed to mirror Jurij's beam as he yanked out his hand and shoved into Andy's lap. The boy scrambled for his hands to break free of the cocoon he wrapped his self in grasped the object in his lap.

Andy brought the object closer to him and squinted at the contours he traced. Amidst the frail light that wrinkled through the barred windows, a trail of silver outlined the metal face of a lion. Flakes of bronze curled off the lion's mane that was etched in flurries like snow while its eyes stared past Andy. Andy stared at the object quizzically as a soft thrumming within it tapped his palm.

"It's not much, but I thought you might like it," Jurij cracked a sheepish smile.

He leaned forward and pressed his finger down on a miniscule latch just beneath the lion's mouth. The metal face swung upward to unleash its ticking voice in a quiet roar. Andy's skin prickled at the dull yellow face staring up at him with fragments of the globe whirling beneath the glass. A thin needle clicked past numbers melded beneath the glass while two iron hands froze under the lopsided 12. Over the clock, where the lion's face should have been, lied a small chip of glass with flurries of white scattered behind its inky background. Andy watched the glass tremble with each tick and swallowed thickly.

"I couldn't get the other hands to work," Andy barely caught Jurij's babbles, "but it still looked worth saving...is it alright?"

Andy snapped the pocket watch close as his lips strained to lift into a smile.

"It's great," Andy said breathlessly, his shoulders trembling slightly. "Thank you."

Jurij sighed in relief and rose to his feet. He rested his hand on the doorknob to his room, arching an eyebrow at Andy's huddled frame.

"You're not going to bed?"

Andy shoved his hands into his lap and rocked back against the wall. His cheeks burned from the smile plastered on his face.

"I think I can sleep by myself tonight." Jurij blinked, nodding reluctantly as he slipped into his bedroom.

As soon as the door closed, Andy scrambled to his feet. He tossed the blanket over his shoulder, practically throwing his self at his bedroom door. The door slammed shut behind him as he fought against his buckling knees towards the bed. His legs toppled back onto the thin mattress, eyes never leaving the pocket watch in his grasp until he flung it across the room. The watch clattered onto the floor, leaving the lion face to catch the boy's reflection as he doubled over.

Andy clasped a hand over his mouth and let out a ragged breath, feeling his lungs cry in relief as the breath he had been holding was released. He wrapped the blanket around his self and buried his face into the mattress. The thin fabric muffled his dry sobs as he gagged. The blanket slid off his quaking shoulders until he pulled it around him tightly.

The shattering glass that awaited him in slumber echoed in the recesses of his mind, leaving a cold sheen of sweat rolling beneath his nightgown. Yet, Andy clenched his teeth in his pillow, he couldn't bring his self to go into Jurij's room.

Not when the stench of blood followed him every waking moment.

Andy coiled into a ball in the sheet and turned away from the opposite wall where he tossed the watch. He spat the iron taste from his mouth, forcing his eyes close—for once thankful his room didn't have a window.

 _Morning will be better._ He thought as he rocked his self to sleep. _Morning will be better._

As the watch's frozen ticking lulled the boy to sleep, a part of him dreaded what tomorrow would bring. Little did he know he was right.


	19. Chapter 18

A warm cognac, brown glowed within the room, dusting away shadows to its far corners. Andy roused from the bed with a groan. He tugged the blanket off his neck, gagging slightly at its tightly bound cloth, and sauntered off the bed. He instantly pulled the blanket over his shoulders as his teeth chattered. He grimaced at the white puffs pluming from his lips and forced his self out of the bed.

The glint of the pocket watch caught his eye as he rose, bringing Andy to reluctantly pick up it up. The cold metal thrummed against his hand with each tick it released until Andy slipped it into the pocket of the nightgown. The thrumming resonated against his thigh as Andy wrapped the blanket around him and stepped out of the room.

He padded down the hallway into the kitchen behind the main room and poked his head around the corner. The room laid barren as it had the night before, save for the lone mug resting on the table. Andy moved to the table, glancing down at the mug with furrowed brows. He brought the mug closer to him and felt his nose wrinkle at the sour liquor splashing in the mug.

The frown on his brows traveled to his lips, for the mug was still full. Andy wandered out to the main room, then the cupboard; the back rooms once more, and sagged against the wall.

"Otto!" Andy called, sweeping through the tavern again. "Jurij!"

He sighed exasperatedly, trudging over to the coat rack beside the door. He shrugged into the oversized coat and forced his hand over the doorknob. The door creaked inward, allowing snow to fall into the doorway, and a bitter chill whirl through the tavern.

"I'm going to regret this," Andy hissed, stepping outside with the door, albeit fighting against the wayward snow that fell in, closing behind. "So going to regret this."

His boots crunched through the white mounds that blanketed the streets. Flakes of snow idly swept past his cheeks as he walked, the sound of his echoing footsteps gnawing at his senses. Andy eyed the wooden planks barred against windows and doors throughout the city and frowned.

_Where is everybody?_

The lone howl of the wind was his only answer. He continued walking down the street when a low clap of voices faintly hummed by his ears. Andy squinted at the silhouettes of people racing down the street and followed. The voices clashed into shouting as Andy entered the city square, just in front of the metal works shop, where hoards of people huddled around a slab of metal. Andy felt shoulders shove him forward into the crowd until he was in the center.

He looked up at the slab to find several members of the Patrol stood. A man with a scar running down his temple shot a scowl out across the audience, rallying their cries more. He turned another member and nodded. The other member, this one with a dark red beard devouring his mouth, stomped to the edge of the slab.

"People of Alcadria," he boomed over the crowd, "We have been held prisoner in this mausoleum for more than a century. And for what? Chasing after our own tails while our so called leaders pick us off like insects when our real enemy," he pointed up over the colossal wall towering overhead, "is out there."

"Is this what our people fought for all those years ago? Half of us slaughtered to be put in a cage and the last of us butchered by rats…I think not." He pounded a fist on his chest. "We are a blood not to be meddled with. A body who knows when it has been infected. It's time we uproot this infestation that has degraded us right where it came in."

The man jerked his head to the side, motioning for the other men to come up onto the slab. Two men stepped onto the slab, dragging a body by its arms and tossed it onto the icy metal. The man they tossed down struggled to prop his self on his elbows when the speaker's boot slammed down on his head. The speaker kneeled down to yank the man's head up and Andy felt his stomach shrivel.

It was Peder.

Or what looked like him anyway.

Dark, almost black, blood trickled down his forehead, falling into gaps and tears along his flesh. A ragged line creased through his cheeks while his skin lied bare for the crowd to see. His gray flesh hung loosely on flabby muscles and tattered cloth, his bloodshot eyes staring at anything and everything. Andy gulped heavily.

"Here is a perfect example of the trash we've let ruin us!" The man proclaimed bitterly. His eyes swept across the crowd with a dark glint, relishing in the glares mirrored in their gaze. "And it's time for these rats to feel the pain we've been feeling for far too long!"

His nails dug into Peder's scalp as he held out his hand. The man with the scar stepped forward with a bottle in his hands while the speaker yanked Peder's head up. Peder's eyes widened, his body trembling violently as he jerked weakly in the speaker's hands. Peder's pleas were drowned out by the crowd's roaring, their fists punching the air as if to snatch the bottle from the man's hand themselves. The speaker hooked his gloved fingers in Peder's mouth and propped his jaw open.

Peder's blunt, black canines chewed at the speaker's fingers in vain as the man popped the bottle open. Andy watched as the Patrol man shoved the bottle down the writhing man's throat, clear droplets of the liquid cascading down his convulsing throat. Peder yanked his arms against the vice like grip of the speaker as his bloodshot eyes widened with red bleeding across the whites of his eyes, devouring the pupil as well. His arms jerked in painful angles that would have snapped his bones while his sickly gray skin grew darker and darker.

Peder's screams drowned in the liquid bubbling in his mouth until the man dropped the bottle aside. The glass crashed with Peder's body following, jerking and writhing all the while until his body tensed, then fell still. Thick black ooze seeped out of the corner of Peder's mouth, his red yoked eyes blindly staring out into the crowd.

As the crowd roared at the dead body, the man with the scar kicked it out over the slab where people in front pounced upon it. Andy was pushed and shoved aside like a doll as they gathered further towards the front of the slab. The speaker's words fell into a vibrant hum with the rest of the crowd's bustling outbursts, falling in sync with the speaker as he punched his fist in the air. The boy felt a numb buzz through his limbs, his feet moving back from the crowd. Andy kept backing up until his back hit against something. He whirled around to find a Patrol man glowering down at him with dark eyes.

"S-sorry," Andy choked out, not noticing the lump in his throat. He skittered back to move around the man. "I was just—"

The boy yelped as a hand gripped his arm roughly. The man yanked Andy towards him.

"Going back." He finished coldly, shoving him forward. Andy stumbled back, eyeing the man warily who merely returned a glower. Andy glanced over his shoulder at the crowd tearing apart crates rolled out from the metal works shop and back at the man. The man stepped closer to Andy, his fleshy lips cracking into a snarl. " _Now_!"

The scrape of metal across the ground flickered in Andy's eardrums as the man reached out for him. Yet a hand clasped around the man's shoulder.

"Hold it Armine," Andy blinked up at the warm smile Gostav ironed across his face. "This one's with me."

Armine growled, grumbling something at the back of his throat before storming off into the crowd. Gostav smirked at his back and looked down at Andy.

"Did you like the show?" Andy's skin crawled at the giddy grin on the man's face. Gostav snorted, "Of course you did!" He grabbed Andy's arm in his, pulling him down the street. "We have business elsewhere unfortunately from the fun."

"Elsewhere?" Andy squeaked, scrambling on his feet to keep up with Gostav's steps.

The man yanked Andy around the corner to the inner part of the city, where a large building gleaming in white bricks stood. Andy gawked at the boarded windows, desperately shooting his gaze everywhere but the crimson on the front steps, and let Gostav haul him inside. Patrol men saluted Gostav with a nod as he dragged Andy behind him up the winding staircase of the watch tower. Gostav came to a halt in front of a door on the highest floor of the tower and nudged it open. He popped his head in for a moment before shooing Andy inside.

Andy stumbled into the room as the door slammed shut behind him. His eyes shot wildly around the room, where a lonesome desk and chairs sat scattered through the creaking orifice.

"I was going to wake you." Andy jumped at the voice cutting into the silence. He whipped his head behind him. Jurij lounged back in a chair, plumped with feathers, with his boots propped up on top of the desk, twining his fingers on his abdomen. He glanced over at Andy's jittery frame. "But you haven’t seemed to be in a listening mood lately."

Andy forced his arms beside his sides with a firm frown. "Wonder why."

"Come on. Don't act like that." Jurij snorted lightly. He snatched a marble from the desk, idly staring at the glassy swirls within. "You see the execution?"

Andy's shoulders slumped. "Yeah."

"If I had it my way he'd still be choking on death."

Andy's stared at him for a moment, his brows hovering over his eyes before he mumbled, "Is that what the Onwu was for?" Jurij froze, blinking at the marble with a frown as he set it down. Andy's hand curled into fists.

"It was necessary."

"For who? The Wall? Or was it just so you could rub elbows with the people you've hated for god knows how long?"

Jurij slid his feet onto the floor with a thump as he rose from the chair. The chair screeched along the floor, causing Andy to flinch back at Jurij's scrunched expression.

"Where is this coming from?" A cold laugh fell from Jurji's lips as he rounded around the desk, eyeing Andy like prey. "It's not like you to be so forward."

Andy choked on the knot in his throat and folded his hands behind his back.

"You'd be surprised of how much practice I've had." He mumbled.

Jurij nodded with a wry smirk that fell. He ran his hands down his face and scrutinized the ceiling overhead. His fingers rapped against the desk's edge when a loud crash echoed outside. Andy flinched, catching a glimmer of smoke beginning to rise over the windows.

"Hey," Jurij said. "Be honest with me for a second. _Really honest."_ He flicked his gaze at Andy. "Did you run away from where you lived?"

Andy tensed, stumbling over his words, "N-not exactly."

"But in a way you did though?"

Andy frowned, his nails digging into his palms as he muttered with a heavy heart, "Yeah. I guess I did."

"Then it's okay then."

Andy's brows furrowed. He looked up at bright amethyst eyes and a giddy smile. Jurij strode over to Andy and grasped his shoulders. Andy fought against the wincing at the fingers burying themselves through his coat.

"It's okay for you to stay here then." Andy gawked at the man as he went on. "You could stay here—be my apprentice until you can rise to second-in-command. You don't have to use your real name of course, but think about it! Think how far we could go in this new era!"

"Jurij," Andy frowned. "You said so yourself, there's no life for you here in—"

"Who said anything about a Wall."

Andy blinked at him quizzically just as an explosion rocked the walls of the tower. Andy clung onto Jurij, his legs trembling with the ripples of the explosion until they came to a rest and another one resounded. Jurij grinned wickedly.

"They can't keep lions in a cage forever you know."

Andy shook his head, pushing back from Jurij. He fell to the floor as the next explosion erupted by the Wall. He scrambled back from Jurij into a corner of the room.

"I," Andy searched for his voice-any voice he had left. "I can't…I don't…"

Jurij tilted his head at the boy and merely shrugged, "Fine." He slid up a chair behind the desk and propped his feet up onto the desk again. Andy stared at him bewilderedly as the man sighed, "Unless I'm called out for duty, you're going to sit here until you change your mind."

Andy's heart sank and curled his legs up into his chest. Hours of explosions past, shaking the tower walls idly until smog thickened into a fog across the sky; blocking out even the stars' light from shining through. Andy rested his head against the wall, fighting against his heavy lids dying to close. The rumbling of the walls shook Andy out of his daze. He turned towards the other side of the room where Jurij sat at the desk still, tossing a marble up into the air.

Andy rubbed his lips together, murmuring, "Where's Otto?"

"Doesn't matter." Jurij muttered. "He wouldn't see things like we do. But you will."

"And what am I supposed to see?"

"The future. Us taking the world by storm, never again to be caged in confines like this." Jurij sighed. "That's why I need you. You're the only one who won't walk out on me. Not like Da." His grip tightened around the marble. "And not like _her_."

Andy blinked and forced his self up. His knees wobbled, numb from sleep, yet he shuffled closer to the desk. He tentatively rested a hand on the edge of the black weaving through ivory desk.

"Jurij," he sighed. "I'm not Odell. You know that."

Jurij tensed, begrudgingly forcing his gaze on the boy as he tossed the marble in the air again.

"I know." He mumbled. "God believe me, I know. But you're…you're better. You're what she should have been."

Andy arched an eyebrow. "That's a bit harsh don't you think. She just wanted a life outside of this like you-"

"Yeah." Jurij snapped, throwing the marble harder until it clacked against the ceiling. "She died trying too."

Andy froze, staggering back from the desk as if it had scalded him.

"What?"

Jurij sat straight up from the desk, setting the marble aside.

"I was exaggerating. It's not that big of a—"

"You said she ran away."

"And plans don't always work out. Can we just drop this?"

"No." Jurij straightened his shoulders at the boy's tone. Andy took a step back from the desk, trying to keep his voice steady. "How'd she die?"

Jurij pressed his lips together and dragged his hands down his face.

"Found her body in a lake not too far from here. Her neck was completely throttled." Jurij spat. "Probably that bastard she ran away with that did her in."

"Did she love Peder?" Andy asked quietly.

"Hell no! Do we need to talk about this? Point is she's gone. Da and I needed provisions and we had to tell everyone she was just sick. That's it." Jurij's voice cracked into a fiery spat.

Andy felt sweat pool in his palms as he wiped them on the side of his coat. Jurij frowned, groaning as he rose from the desk to walk towards Andy. The boy's back thumped against the wall, a small array of faux arms jingling beside him. Jurij stood in front of Andy and rested his hands on his shoulders.

"Just stay here. We can do so much, I can feel it." Jurij said softly, his hands slowly traveling up to Andy's neck. "You can trust me." Andy's breath hitched at the back of his throat as Jurij's fingers brushed against his cheeks. "You know…you actually look better as a girl."

Andy shook him off with a grimace. He swallowed the sting Jurij's last words left, croaking, "How am I supposed to trust you, if you aren't trusting me?"

"Hey…"

Andy shook his hands off with more force. "That night with Peder…and that alley…he said something about paying for Odell. What did he mean by that?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"What did he mean!" Jurij flinched back at Andy's sharp snap. "You were low on provisions. You needed anything to get by."

"I didn't say that."

"You wouldn't have lied about it." Jurij fell silent again, looking away from the boy as Andy bit out, "And from you told me about her, she wouldn't have gone that low to get by even for you. So what did he…"

Andy trailed off, his eyes widening as he stared at Jurij. The man cast his eyes to the side with a frown settled deep on his mouth, leaving Andy's heart to skip a beat.

"God no." Jurij looked back at Andy, reaching out for him as Andy shrunk back further against the wall. "You didn't…you couldn't…"

Jurij flicked his gaze down at the floor. Andy gripped his stomach that began to burn. He flinched away from Jurij's touch.

"I didn't mean for it to get that far." Jurij said.

Andy held a hand to his mouth, blinking through the heat welling in his eyes as he ogled the man.

"That far?" Andy gaped. "You sold her. Then when she said no you…" Andy felt his stomach lurch violently against his side. " _Oh god._ "

Jurij caught Andy before he crumbled to the floor. He propped him up against the wall and ran his hand through his mucky hair. He pressed his fingertips onto his cheeks, gently shushing him as wayward tears sneaked down the boy's face.

"Hey, that's all in the past now." Jurij said through the boy's breathless gasps. He strained to keep a small smile on his face that was quickly crumbling. "Things can be different. You don't have to live the life you ran from and neither do I. I was lost, and she…she just wanted to avoid it all together. I did what I had to do, and I don't regret it. And soon, neither will you." His breath tickled Andy's face; the scent of iron—raw, human iron—made his stomach coil. " _Devour the flame. Devour the spark. We are the nightmare. We are the dark._ "

Andy's heart froze against his chest, pulling his face away from Jurij's to stare at him with wide eyes.

"Where did you hear that?" He asked breathlessly, his voice shriveling into nothing.

"It's just a saying our new leaders told us." Jurij murmured, winding his arms around Andy's waist. His lips still lingered near Andy's as the boy's fingers absentmindedly wrapped around a handle in the faux coat of arms case.

"Jurij." The man hummed, nuzzling the boy's neck. "It's nice. Not regretting anything." Jurij pulled his face up to look up at Andy. His brows puckered into a frown at the glassy gaze staring at him. "But I still do."

Andy yanked his arm up from the case with a wicker blade in his hand and smashed it against Jurij's head. The man cried out, rearing back from Andy with his hands clawing at his face. The air strangled Andy's lungs as he watched blood stream down the gash hacked down Jurij's right eye, a small hunk of skin clinging to the edges of his face. Blinking through red tears, Jurij watched as the boy scrambled towards the door and shoved his way down the stairwell.

"No, wait!" Jurij cried through his gasps, clenching his eye as its throbs pierced through the rest of his body.

Andy's blood roared in his ears as he took three stairs at a time and burst through the doors of the tower. He gagged on the thick smoke that filled his lungs and wrapped the collar of his coat around his mouth. He stumbled through the mounds of snow on the street, explosions popping in his ears with screams punctuating each ripple.

Andy glanced over his shoulder to find a rally of people racing down the street. Before the boy could move, a hundred shoulders and elbows shoved past him. Andy yelped as the air left him with each blow until he felt the ground fall from under him. He toppled back through a hole, crashing down onto wooden planks. The harsh crunch that followed sent Andy scrambling up, looking down at the shattered pieces of glass and wood of the window.

A shout pierced through Andy as he ducked down under the remaining flanks of the wall. Snow and smoke flurried through the broken room he fell into, blanketing the torn floorboards with a gray, white film. Blood curdling screams fell short with every boom of the explosions coming from the Wall, leaving Andy's ears to pop and mold with the chaos around him. The boy pressed his ear to the wall, listening to the footsteps tear through the streets until one remained. Andy's breathing froze as the lone footsteps crunched closer to the building he was in. He buried his teeth into the coat's collar, whimpering ever so quietly when a flickering shadow casted over the broken window.

He held his breath as a figure leered into the building. Andy's eyes widened at the scythe in the other's hands, clacking against the wall with a low purr. The figure twisted its arm to the side, landing the blade and inch from Andy's neck. The scythe's clanking orchestrated Andy's heartbeat the closer it inched towards him. The boy sucked in a sharp breath and the figure jerked its head over to him.

Andy could only see black soot paint the figure's face while an eerie snarl laced across its mouth. It jerked the scythe up with a flick of its wrist only to drop it entirely. Andy ogled the weapon as it clattered onto the floor with the figure slumping over into the building. The boy looked up at the window to find a man leaning over the uprooted shards of the window.

He spat next to the figure's sagging frame and turned towards Andy. His mouth tugged down into a familiar frown.

"Damn boy," the gruff grunt sent a wave of relief rolling down Andy's spine. He squinted up at the stubbly jaw and eternal frown creased along Otto's brows.

The boy let out a voiceless cry, throwing his arms around the man's neck. Otto made an irritated cluck at the back of his throat as he pulled back with Andy crawling over the window. The boy winced at the pricks of the remaining glass while Otto shook him off. Andy opened his mouth only for Otto to yank him by the arm.

"Move!" Otto barked, shoving him down the street. Andy wordlessly followed after the man, the clatter of metal and cries trailing behind them. The two raced through the streets, snow whipping across their faces mercilessly, as they trudged over thick mounds that littered the gravel. Andy tripped, nearly toppling over, when Otto yanked him by the collar. "Don't look down!"

Andy felt a sour metallic taste gurgle at the back of his mouth. The splayed limbs mashed under the snow he caught at the corner of his eye kept his gaze forward.

The two turned around the corner where the tavern sat, its sign battering against the wall nimbly. The windows and wood barring them were smashed along with the door that swung ajar. Otto cursed under his breath, pulling Andy in tow with him as they entered the tavern. The man closed the door behind them while Andy scanned the remnants of the main room.

Andy's boots crunched on top of the glass and wood splinters across the floor, his eyes widening at the dark liquid seeping through the smashed counter and liquor cabinet. Otto patted Andy's shoulder as he jerked his head to the back of the tavern. The boy followed close behind him through the dark halls, feeling his way against the walls, until they reached the cellar. Otto heaved the latch up as Andy quickly grabbed the lantern they left beside it. He handed the lit flask to Otto and climbed down into the musky haven. Wet earth mingled with aging liquor tingled Andy's nose the further they ventured through, the rumbling of the world above them growing into a faint murmur.

"Just like them," Otto grumbled. "Only going for what they see. Bunch of half brained bastards!" Andy furrowed his brows as the man came to an end of the cellar, where a bushel of barrels sat. He handed the lantern back to Andy and shoved the barrels away from the wall. "Boy, if there's anything you do in life," he grunted, the barrel scraping across the ground with a groan, " _look_. Before anything else _look!"_

Andy blinked as the last barrel was shoved aside, leaving a burrowed door in the wall's wake. Otto sat back against a barrel, watching Andy gawked at the door then at Otto. The sighed heavily, hauling his self up. He curled his fingers through the rail of the door and nudged it forward. The door shuddered as it swung in, tendrils of roots falling over its ridge. Otto jerked his head towards the door, yet Andy remained still.

Otto sighed again, opening his mouth to chastise the boy when Andy murmured, "Aren't you going?"

The man shrugged, scratching at his chin. "No." He mumbled. "Caged beasts should stay caged."

Andy bit his lip, thoughts trying to formulate into words when a crash bristled overhead. Footsteps thundered through the tavern, growing louder and louder as they entered the hall. Otto pushed Andy through the doorway.

"Go, now!" The muddy ceiling trembled with a dull purr. "The tunnel won't last long with these explosions!"

Andy hesitated until Otto clapped his hand on his shoulder. Urgency and pain glided through Otto's eyes, leaving Andy breathless. His furrowed brows cupped the upper crescents of his eyes, a tinged dark violet that Andy noticed for the first time. Otto squeezed the boy's shoulder, murmuring ever so gently, "Run son."

Andy felt his heart swell and break all at once; a flicker of another man's face—of another life—taking place of Otto's. He took a step back. Then another. And a final step with Otto's expression searing into his memories before darting into the tunnel.

His boots tore across the dirt, echoing around him in the tunnel. Andy's teeth dug into his lip; the trembling in his lip held at bay for the moment. Andy slowed his running to a jog, watching puff after puff of his breath grow into a white bloom. As his heartbeat fell in tune with his breathing, he squeezed the tears from his eyes. He sucked in a shaky breath, ready to come to a halt when a low roar rumbled along the tunnel's walls.

Dirt and mud trembled from the roof in large clumps, slamming on the ground with loud thumps. Tears silently trekked down Andy's cheeks as he took off. The boy ducked and stumbled over thick rocks that rumbled down overhead. The tunnel quaked with each explosion; the roaring of rocks caving in growing into a faint whir amidst Andy's thundering heart. Dirt began clumping onto his shoulders the narrower the tunnel became as he blindly stumbled through the cavern.

He squinted through the darkness and dust prying at his vision when the faintest gleam of light shone through a miniscule crack up ahead. Andy pushed his arms out toward the light, scrambling to the ground. He bit back a hiss at the sharp sting the rocks greeted him with his fall. He arched his back only to meet the roof of the tunnel with a thump.

Andy swallowed down a whimper as he crawled on, his knees nipping and scraping along the rocks. The air grew thick with sulfur mingling underground, gripping the boy's lungs mercilessly. He coughed roughly into the earth and looked up at the light ahead that shook with the explosion. His fingers grazed over the fading beam as the tunnel collapsed with a growl ringing in Andy's ears, snatching the last fragments of freedom with it.

White fractals of ice grazed over the wind, sweeping up the ash and smog that lingered in the air. The light snowfall dusted splinters of wood and brick scattered across the blackened earth and the crumbled blocks that once stood around it; wistfully guiding gray clouds and smoke to another day. In the silent graveyard being blanketed by snow, a low grumble fell from the far end of the blocks on the outskirts of the city. The uprooted pile of dirt lying in clumps where the blocks sat shifted.

The gravelly dirt trembled, breaking apart from the snowflakes pinching it together as an arm bloomed out of the ground. Just as the arm scrambled along the ground, mud caked fingers wriggling to grasp onto a spare block, another arm sprouted from the ground with it. The arms heaved a body up with it as the rising boy gasped for air. He scrambled forward, rolling out of the hole and onto the ground. He wheezed, flints of dirt flying from his mouth as he coughed into the burnt grass. His stomach folded into itself eagerly, spewing dark, maple mud onto the ground. His shoulders quaked with his trembling frame until the coughing stopped.

Andy blankly stared out over his pool of vomit at the smoke lingering on the fallen city. He bit his lip, ignoring the sour bile burning his tongue, feeling a foreign heat cascade down his cheeks. The boy shuddered with a sob rocking him back and forth. He hiccupped over the burnt weeds pressed into his cheek when a soft crunch met his ears.

He choked on a plea as fingers brushed by in front of him. He blinked at the sparsely clean fingers and followed the arm of the one reaching out for him. The wind blew across the man's outstretched arm, casting his onyx, black hair from his face. Icy, blue eyes stared down at Andy with his lips pressed together in a firm line. He shook his hand out for Andy as the boy's face crumbled with tears streaking down his cheeks, merely spreading the dirt caked into his skin.

The man said nothing as he kneeled down, hooking his arms under Andy's. He threw one of Andy's arms across his shoulders and gently heaved him to his feet. Andy felt his legs drag under him, his muscles numb as if they weren't there at all. He pressed his face against the white clad shoulder of the man, burying his teeth into his bottom lip.

"Go ahead." Andy flinched at the soft voice. The man stared straight ahead, hauling more of the boy's weight on his side. "It hurts more when you don't."

The man's feathery, black hair dusted Andy's nose as he pressed his face deeper into the crook of the man's neck. A sob broke through the constraints of Andy's tightened throat, vocal chords breaking aside instantly. He wheezed and coughed onto the man's shoulder with each streak of tears pouring from his eyes, squeezing his arms around the other. As they moved further away from the city's rubble, Andy fell in and out of consciousness-tears falling even then-until his breathing finally evened in time with his cries.

After the smoke of the city was long gone from his senses, Andy jolted awake. The taste of copper and ash burned his tongue as he gagged for breath. He swallowed thickly, his heart crept back into his chest as he blinked in his surroundings. Golden, orange flickered along rocky walls that towered over him. Stalactites crept down from the cave overhead like teeth, water glistening down its sides as it dripped into pools. Andy jerked his head around the cavern, glancing down to find a blanket draped over him and his nightgown. He sighed heavily and gripped the side of his head.

"So Sleeping Beauty's finally up." Andy jumped. He turned his gaze around to find the man standing over him with a bucket in one hand. He kneeled down to Andy, setting the bucket beside him. His eyes stared at Andy for a moment longer when he asked, "Hungry?"

Andy opened his mouth as a mangled croak fell from his lips. He clamped his mouth shut and turned away, shaking his head. The man sighed, sliding the bucket closer to him and nodded his head down to it. Andy glanced down at the water sloshing about in the bucket, steam curling up over the rim.

"Would you mind if I…"

Andy's shoulders slumped, fiddling with the edges of the blanket until he reluctantly nodded. The man shuffled behind the boy and began fiddling with the buttons running down the nightgown. The buttons merely crumbled from their cracks as he slid the dirt speckled gown off his shoulders. Andy shuddered at the clammy air greeting his flesh. The blanket was quickly shoved aside, leaving the nightgown pooling around his waist. The man tore a piece of cloth from the blanket and dipped it into the water.

Heat radiated off the cloth as he brought it to the back of Andy's neck. He dragged the cloth down the dried mud clinging to Andy's back, eliciting a hiss from the boy. The mud scraped down his flesh, refusing to release the skin beneath it until the man tipped the bucket over. Andy screeched between gritted teeth as the steaming water poured down his back. He blinked a wayward tear from his eyes. The boiling water was one thing, yet the prying of the dirt from his back was entirely something else.

The man scrubbed Andy's back roughly until a spot of pink flesh bloomed from the field of black dirt. The boy groaned into his fist as the filth clinging to him crumbled away. The air around him seemed cooler on his freed clean; it was only then when his back was cleansed and the front slowly being etched of the dirt did he feel bare. Andy's fingers itched to pool the nightgown up over his chest as the man broke through the walls of dirt.

"No need to be bashful now." Andy flinched at the light smirk in his voice. He pressed his palms into his lap, tilting his chin up as the man began scrubbing down his neck. Andy croaked, thirsting for his own voice instead of the trembling one. He reached his hand back to grasp the other's only for it to be swatted way.

"You could barely wake yourself up on your own." The man clucked his tongue, moving the cloth to Andy's cheek. "You can clean yourself down there after I'm done."

Andy grumbled under his breath as the cloth wiped across his face. The man leaned back at the bright, pink flesh still buzzing from the boiling water.

"Better." He raised up on his knees with the bucket in his hands, carefully tilting it over Andy's head.

The boy hissed at the water crashing down on him, leaving thick, dirty strands of hair dripping down his face. The man began raking his fingers through his hair, roughly scratching his scalp, and trailed down to edge of his back. He pulled back Andy's hair and wrung the muddy water from red, gold locks. Andy sat in silence until he felt his hair flop back against the top of his back.

The man moved back from the boy, smiling at his half cleansed self. The smile slowly melted into a meek press of his lips. Andy stared at the point of the cavern with its array of pointed teeth silently. The man sighed, turning to pour out the last of the fire off the side of the slab they sat on. He turned to the small fire in the middle of the cavern, feeding it spare twigs off the side when Andy flicked his gaze on him.

"How?"

The man glanced at the boy over his shoulder. He sat back against the wall, chuckling lightly, "He finally talks." The man propped his arms on his knees, sighing, "Your _father_ owed me a favor."

He gently rolled, "father," yet the word stung nonetheless. Andy grimaced, dropping his head tiredly.

"He wanted to do it." The man said. "He thought you were worth it."

Andy folded his knees up to rest his chin on them. He murmured, "Did you know this would happen?"

"No." The man scratched the back of his neck. "Just a hunch. The rats have been infesting everything on this side of the mountain lately."

"Rats? But they…"

"Were accusing others of being them." The man shook his head. "The truth is all of that breaking down the wall was just an excuse for mindless slaughter. A game of sorts for the real rats behind the 'lion revolt' in order to gain another playing card."

 _The Draguen_. Andy grinded his teeth, his blood bubbling deep in his veins. "How long?"

"Forever I guess." He shrugged. "They take what they can get here in the North."

Andy's heart skipped a beat. He shot his head, staring at the man with wide eyes.

"The North?" Andy said breathlessly. "Where are we now?"

"In the mid part of the mountains."

"How close are we to the northern kingdom?"

The man's brows furrowed. "Not far I suppose if you have a death wish."

Andy's breath hitched at the back of his throat, swelling into a knot as he threw his self to the ground. The man ogled the boy with his forehead pressed on the ground and filthy nightgown clinging to his backside.

"Thank you," Andy said. "Thank you for saving me again, but I'm begging you— _please_ take me to the northern kingdom."

The man blinked, his slack mouth swaying between a smirk and line. Andy's cheeks burned the longer he pressed his face to the ground. His heartbeat rang in his ears anew, twisted between shame and desperation until the man murmured something quietly. Andy brought his head up.

"What?" Andy asked.

The man's face was expressionless. He leaned forward, grasping the boy's chin in his hand. Andy shivered under the heavy weight burning beneath his icy eyes as he whispered, "Who do you want me to be?"

Andy's mouth went dry, locked by the man's gaze. He pressed his lips together and sighed.

"I don't know." He dropped his eyes to the ground. "Honestly…just someone who won't try to kill me in the next two seconds."

The man's black bangs fell over his eyes as a thick silence draped over them. The boy barely felt the ghost like touch of the man brushing his thumb against his chin as he pulled away. Andy stared up at the man, chewing the side of his cheek.

"Egil." The man sighed and chuckled at the same time. Andy blinked at him quizzically. "You can call me Egil." The man ran a hand through his messy hair and cracked a smile at him. He reached out his hand towards Andy's. "And what do I call you?"

Andy's heart sighed in his chest as he grasped Egil's hand. As their hands shook, a tremor of ice shot through Andy's body, almost as if the iciness was tugging at something at the back of his mind to move closer to the other man. He shook his head, squeezing Egil's hand with a new found conviction.

 _For Arendelle. For Alcadria. For Otto. For Jurij._ Andy's jaw set firmly, the pocket watch burning against his thigh. _I won't let the Draguen ruin anyone else ever again!_

"My name is Anders of Arendelle, second in line to the seer kingdom of the nine realms. _And I have a mission I need to finish."_


	20. Chapter 19

The solemn gray simmering along the weather beaten peaks glared a blinding ray down the mountain side. Andy squinted under his hand as he stared at the rolling flocks of black clouds in the sky. The arctic bite in the air stung his lungs with its crisp scent, sweeping away at three months worth of smog. The boy drooped his shoulders with a sigh and dug around in his pocket. As soon as his fingers tapped against metal, he wrapped them around the watch. Andy felt his muscles relax ever so slightly as a quiet sigh shook him out of his reverie.

"Why do you look so tense?" Evil asked. "I'm the one who has to lead us up death."

Andy frowned at the man until he saw the crinkle of a smirk lingering at the corner of Egil's mouth.

"Sorry." Andy huffed through his teeth. He glanced at the thick satchel tied around Egil's waist and black knapsack flung over his back. Andy felt the makeshift cloth and fur thrown over his shoulders burn and dropped his gaze to the ground. "It's just…I'm not…" Egil arched an eyebrow at him as Andy threw his hands in the air with a groan and pointed to the knapsack. "Let me carry that."

Egil glanced at the knapsack and back at Andy. The urgent gleam in his aqua, blue eyes snipped any retorts on the man's tongue as he shrugged it off his shoulders. He slung the knapsack on his arm and gestured it to Andy. Andy grasped the knapsack with a choked yelp, falling forward slightly at the weight anchoring him to the ground. He gritted his teeth and carefully wrapped the string of the knapsack in front of his chest. His muscles, though straining under the newfound weight, rippled with relief down his limbs.

Andy straightened his back, jutting his chin up at Egil. "So, where do we start?"

Egil nodded his head up at the snowy ledges above them. Andy followed his gaze, his jaw slowly falling slack at the stark white creases and felt his limbs tremble.

"You're joking."

Egil shrugged, juggling a pair of ice picks in one hand and rope in the other. He sauntered over to an ogling Andy, tying the rope around his waist until it was settled firmly around him. Egil tied the other end of the rope around his own when Andy snapped his jaw back into place.

"How high?" Andy asked, glancing back at the empty cavern they were in.

Egil shot him a lopsided grin, tugging the rope. Andy begrudgingly trekked after him, the icy wind finally sinking through his skin as he watched Egil slam his ice picks into the frozen rock. The picks' metal cracked through the ice, snugly grinding against the rock while Egil hoisted his self up.

"Be careful where you step on your way up," Egil lifted his pick and slammed it over his head.

Andy ignored the churning in his stomach as he quickly tugged on his gloves. He gripped the dips the ice picks had broken into and heaved his self up. He followed after Egil's imprints in the snow, creeping ever so slowly up the mountain until the cavern they rested in was no more than a dot.

They climbed onward, the air growing thin around them with each lunge upward. The wind bellowed down the mountain's back, sweeping airy flakes of snow into its arms. As snow tapered off the thick mounds of frost, a flurry of it smashed into Andy's face. The boy spluttered the snow out of his mouth, his hands straining around the jagged rocks around him despite the burn pricking his cheeks. He squinted through the frenzied ballet of snowflakes at the daunting peak of the mountain. His heart shriveled at the minuscule dot while he fought against the urge to look down.

 _God_ , he thought wearily, hiking his foot up into a crevice. His boot slid out from the icy rock, sending the boy's left leg flailing frantically until he shoved it onto a mound of snow. _What did I ever do to you?_

"You look a little pale." Andy's brow twitched at the smirk laced tone. He spared a glance at twinkling eyes staring down at him and bit back a groan. Egil tilted his head to the side, a lone black lock brushing over his eye from beneath his white hood, and wriggled his fingers around the picks buried into the rock.

"Wonder why." Andy mumbled. A shiver wracked down Andy's spine as he pressed against the snow, hissing at the wind that whipped by him. The flakes that whipped by him quickly stung his cheeks like glass. Andy winced, gripping harder in the dips Egil made until Egil froze. The boy swerved his head to the side, the heel of the man's boot barely scraping his forehead.

Egil squinted past Andy's shoulder, sucking in his bottom lip with a frown. "Look down."

Andy glanced down and felt his stomach drop from his being. A shadowing mist of snow and frost whirled beneath them that stretched deep into an abyss. Andy pressed his self flat against the side of the mountain, clinging onto the dips of the snow and rock with a renewed need.

"Where did that come from?" Andy squeaked as Egil carefully slid down to Andy's view.

Egil nudged the boy's shoulder grunting, "I think we should be more concerned with that."

Andy jerked his head to the side, his muscles gripping his bones, and looked down again. Just a few feet below them lied a cavern jutting deep into the mountain. Andy's eyes widened slightly as he murmured, "Isn't that…the cave we camped out in?"

"That's what I was afraid of." Egil grunted. He looked up at the thickening, black clouds knitting together as the wind howled with a bitter vengeance. The sharp prick of ice against his cheeks made his frown deepen. "We're in a labyrinth."

The words tugged at the back of his mind, wracking at the memories locked in the crevices of his brain to no avail. He shook his head, calling over the wind, "What does that mean?"

Egil didn't answer, flicking his gaze back to the rumbling storm creeping towards them. The icy shards battered weakly past his cheeks as the cold slithered beneath layers of fur and wool—fueling a frozen fire that roiled through his veins. A long line of white hissed under the grueling, black clouds as they strode closer to the mountain, the crown of its mass ready to devour the tip of the mountain.

"We have to jump."

Andy whipped his gaze onto Egil, his eyes silently grateful to avoid the deepening abyss beneath it. "Are you insane?" Andy gawked at the man, nearly losing his grip at his words. A flurry of incoherent gasps jumbled into a thick mesh within Andy's throat. "The cave's right there!"

Egil set his jaw firmly and shook his head, "That's not the cave."

Andy opened his mouth to retort, only to have the wind whip the back of his hood over his head. He curled his tongue deep into his mouth as his teeth chattered uncontrollably; each violent clack making his tongue wince further into his mouth. He squinted through thick snowflakes at Egil loosening his grip from the ice picks. Andy's heart clamored wildly against his chest until a low snap managed to prick his ears. He glanced down at the rope tied tightly around his waist as the thick, tethered hairs twisted against each other mercilessly and instantly fell apart.

The boy grappled for the edge of the rock, feeling the icy ground beneath him fall from under him. His body slid down the side of the mountain as if he were no more than a feather. A shrill silence plugged Andy's ears, his throat tightening into a permanent knot as Egil shot out a hand for him. The boy watched the world tumble inside out, the folded, gray peaks of mountains pecking into the freezing darkness as his back slammed against solid ice. His head snapped back, grinding against broken ridges of rock, when he felt the tip of a rock graze his forehead.

A faint, rotten scent brushed past Andy's nose as he blinked away inky tendrils of darkness. His breath caught in his throat ever so carefully as the tip of a stalagmite reared its bony, sharp canines to the boy. Andy swallowed thickly, the silence plugging his ears weighing thickly in his eardrums until he was torn from the bottom of the abyss and spitting fractals of snowflakes from his mouth.

He blinked at the storm clouds practically hovering over the mountain and strained his neck to stare up at Egil. Egil's mouth moved, yet no sound met Andy's ears; the silence growing thicker than ever before until Egil's hand, the one not clenching around Andy's pants leg, loosened its grip around the handle of the ice pick. Andy's eyes widened as the faint cry of, "No. No. No!" grew into a loud shrill in the silence plaguing him when he recognized the voice as his own.

Andy's heart cracked as Egil released the ice pick and gravity claimed them as its own. Yet as the two plummeted into the dark abyss, Andy blinked at the warm light glowing around them. He blinked twice. Then thrice more until his hands roamed against solid rock.

The boy fell onto his back with a thud with Egil falling after on his feet. Andy's eyes hesitantly glanced around the cavern where thin slivers of rock, pointed like icicles, stretched down from the rocky ceiling while a slight, burnt orange hue glowed from the slabs of rocks around them. The boy watched Egil's shoulders slump with a sigh as he flipped his hood from his eyes. A mess of uncombed, black hair ruffled around the man's head while a lopsided grin cracked at his lips.

"You sure do scream a lot." He said pointedly.

Andy stared at the rocky cavern over their heads as his heart crept back down from his mouth into his chest. Then Egil's words penetrated his conscious with the shock of a bolt. Andy slapped his hands down against the ground, exclaiming breathlessly, "What the hell?"

Egil snorted as Andy shakily rose up on his elbows. He stepped over Andy, jerking his head down the cavern that stretched deeper into a lit darkness. Andy groaned, wincing at the raw barrenness burning down of his throat, and rolled onto his side. He staggered to his feet as he followed close behind Egil. Andy's brows knitted together as he softly glared at up at Egil.

"What now?" Egil asked, running his fingers along the side of the cavern without looking back.

Andy's puckered brow deepened in its frown as he murmured, "What was that?"

"A labyrinth." Egil shrugged. He ducked under rocky crystals inching down from the roof of the cavern. "It's an enchantment meant to trap its targets in a reality slightly…cracked from what they're used to." Andy silently scoffed at, "slightly," feeling the tip of rock graze his forehead once more as Egil went on. "I didn't expect them to put one on this mountain though. Especially one so powerful."

Andy folded his arms across his chest, burying his chin into his chest. "How'd you know it was there in the first place?"

Egil stuttered in his step and came to a halt. Andy bumped into his back, stumbling back, and blinked up at the man. The boy felt every hair on his body stand up at the stark, blue gaze burning into him. Egil's bottom lip slipped under his teeth, biting down on it for a moment before easing his self back into his muscles.

"I just do." He said softly. Andy arched an eyebrow at him before he nodded up towards the top of the cavern. Andy followed his gaze to find thin, iridescent strings of silver and gold strung above their heads in small mosaic tendrils of glass. Andy ogled the dangling mosaic web as Egil said, "If you go up through that again, you'll be somewhere completely different on the mountain."

Andy, eyes locked on the mosaic, murmured, "So you knew when we jumped, we'd fall in here." Egil blinked once, scratching the back of his head with a forced cough. Andy snapped his head down at him with a weary gaze. "You knew…right?"

Egil turned on his heel, briskly trailing down the cavern with a mild sprint. Andy's eyes widened. "You didn't know?"

"I caught you didn't I?"

"That's besides the point!" Andy groaned, trekking after him.

The cavern stretched on as they walked; the thick webs spouting illusion after illusion of different parts of the mountain slowly faded to films creeping along the ashen rock. Andy wrapped his arms around his self, slivers of iciness slipping along the back of his neck. His fingers scrunched around the thick fabric until he crashed into Egil's back. His brows furrowed as he glared up at the man.

"If this is another joke," Andy huffed tiredly, "I'm not in the mood."

Egil pressed the boy back against the cavern walls, shaking his head firmly as he held a finger to his mouth. Andy blinked curiously as Egil jerked his head to the side. A film of gold and white swirled around the wall at the end of the cavern, locked into place with dark blue insignias of birds pulled about with a series of bones spouting from their wings and opal bodies. Andy's brows rose, his heart skipping a beat until his nails bit into the flesh of his palm. Egil turned to look at the boy only to feel his arm be shrugged away. Andy twisted under the man's grasp until he wrung his self away from the wall and stared down the film of webbing on the wall.

"What are you doing?" Egil hissed, grappling for the boy's arm.

Egil's hisses fell on mute ears as Andy glared down at the bones growing from the insignias and stretched along the rock. He squared his shoulders and charged through the webbing. Andy bit back a yelp as ripples of shocks clawed beneath his cloak and clothes, leaving his skin humming with a numb, yet sensitive burn. He stumbled through the web until the strands of gold and white broke apart around him. With one final stomp, Andy's knees buckled as the burn of the webs wore at his muscles. He scrambled along the ground, gasping once his head broke the surface of the web.

Ash flooded his lungs as he gulped in the air; yet the air around him filled his being with warmth-a foreign fire that mingled in his belly. He swiped the remaining strings of the web from his face and arched his brows with a slacked jaw. Hundreds of golden flames lingered within the rocks of the mountain that stretched out before him. The flames shifting along and below the rocks until they spilled out in tow with people milling behind them. Andy watched, anchored to the spot, as the cavern unfolded with the light into an endless terrain of rocky shelves and tunnels filled with people shifting through them. Andy felt his mouth run dry at the lights floating about like fireflies within the mountain—and at the sharp flints of rock pointed straight at his neck.

Andy felt the tip of a flint gently graze over his Adam's apple as several pairs of smoky eyes glowered down at him. The boy felt his back burn, inching over the rest of his frame, where even the familiar icy chill fanning over his neck didn't sway the burn.

"Don't move." Andy tried to gulp, holding his breath as the point of the flint snagged against his skin. The men hovering over them exchanged quick glances before whispering in an alien wisp of tongue. Andy sucked in a breath, the language failing to fall into his memories, as the men moved their weapons aside and dragged across the ground. Egil shot him a quick shake of his head as they were hauled along the edge of the rocky shelf.

Andy caught Egil's eye through the hoard of men and mouthed to him, "Where are they taking us?"

Egil stared back at him, blue eyes glazed in an icy film as he mouthed back, "To hell."


	21. Chapter 20

Wisps of flames ghosted the back of their necks as the cave swayed around them. Their muscles gripped onto their bones, feeling the edges of heated iron burn the hair on their necks. Andy choked on the knot growing in his throat, keeping his eyes locked on the rocky ground under them, and not the edge of the ledge right beside them. Each swallow seemed to make the rope, despite being weighed down by layers of fur, dig deeper against him.

The tip of a flint nicked the side of Andy’s neck, eliciting a thin trail of blood quickly burning onto his flesh. Andy slammed his teeth down on his bottom lip and swallowed down the cry welling in his chest. Andy’s ears strained to catch the fiery dance of their words flying over them. He blinked away the warmth roiling at the corners of his eyes as he silently cursed his self.

Egil nudged his shoulder against his. “Is it just me,” he whispered, “or are their heads getting bigger?”

Andy rolled his eyes, lightly thumping the back of his head against Egil’s. “Yours if you can joke at a time like this!” Andy hissed quietly.

“I’m not. I’m seriously starting to see their heads grow.”

Andy groaned, hating to admit that the blood pooling in his head was starting to make him see double as well. He didn’t have to be right side up however to feel a million eyes prying at their tied forms from afar as the other people of the mountain shot them wary glances.

Andy nibbled on his bottom lip, eyeing the pole of another heated flint, and murmured, “If only we could explain ourselves.”

“Well, according to these lovely guards,” Egil replied, watching two heavily armored soldiers bicker from the corner of his eye while the others held their spits at them, “we should be either tossed off the ledge or be burned to death with their spears.”

Andy’s brows shot up. “You understand them?”

“More or less.”

“Then explain to them why we’re here!”

Andy felt Egil’s shoulder shrug against his as he snapped, “I said I _understand_ them. That doesn’t mean I can speak it.”

“Of all the—how can you only understand them?”

“What kind of prince on a mission can’t speak the destination’s language?”

“I can,” Andy’s cheeks flushed. “Just…not well…”

“Unbelievable,” Egil held back a snort. “And you’re getting on me about this.”

Andy jerked his shoulder against Egil only for him to jerk back when they heard the flints tear through their furs and graze their abdomens. They instantly froze, swallowing down any retorts. Andy carefully sunk his stomach back away from the iron brushing through the torn fabric, shivering at the gust of ashy air blowing through, and swallowed thickly.

The bickering came to an abrupt halt with one of the men shouting orders. Andy felt Egil stiffen against him, swearing under his breath. The next whisper clung onto Andy’s tongue as the guards wielding the flints and irons shuffled around them. The iron hovering against Andy pulled back, only to slam forward into his side. A strangled scream tore from Andy’s throat as Egil echoed his pain. A flint drove through the thick burlaps of fur into Egil’s shoulder, digging deeper until the tip brushed against Andy’s own shoulder. The jabs of iron and flints began assaulting them from all angles. Threads withered under the molten heads of iron that began remolding flesh underneath.

The stench of scalding flesh and faint traces of blood burned through Andy’s nose. Pain throbbed throughout his body, taking over his heartbeat with a new found rhythm, when a voice pierced through their cries.

The guards froze, turning towards the shouting, and immediately backed away from Andy and Egil. The two wheezed, each breath punching the wind out of them instead, barely catching the commands booming from the new voice until the rope holding them up was cut. They fell to the ground in a tangled heap. The rope around loosened and tore as the guards began to pull them apart. The voice barked at them, their grips softening instantly as the voice gave them orders.

Andy’s hazy gaze caught onto Egil’s clenched hand; a white mist of ice beginning to grow around it. Andy shakily forced his hand onto Egil’s and gently squeezed the icy fist. Egil jerked his head to the side as Andy shook his head. Egil’s lips trembled and forced them together when the guards slowly hauled him away.

Andy’s glassy eyes followed the man’s tattered, white cloak engulf him into a white blur as he was pulled away from him; burning its way into the shadows until there was nothing left but the overwhelming ash. A sharp pain ripped through Andy’s stomach, his hand groping towards the white cloak until he fell on his side. He spluttered onto the ground, curling into his self when a guard heaved him up. Andy blindly reached for Egil as he was carried in the opposite direction, flashes of a young boy donned in white being dragged into the dark—into a slaughter house only to come out in another’s blood.

“No. No. Please,” Andy murmured hysterically, “Don’t go…don’t leave me…” Andy’s vision swayed into darkness with a flash of one last image—of a foreign smile from long ago—piercing through him that the burns could never reach. He whimpered, “Not again.” 

_The thundering roar of rain drowned the fjord that night._

_Splatters of rain were whipped by the wind as never ending shadows sullied the sky. Broken pieces of silhouettes crept across the great hall, inching closer with each bolt of light that whisked across the windows._

_Andy watched thick droplets dance along the tiled floor; the warmth of mosaic speckles slowly being drained. He caught a flicker of his own shape warped across the floor, stark black against the white light behind it, and for a moment thought he saw his self. A taller, broader version of his self squirming at the edges of his being to spring free. It flickered at the edge of his shoes, waning further away from him, and disappeared. He blinked, frowning at his failed chance to wave at the glimpse of his future when he followed the broken trail to the back of another man._

_The man chuckled dryly, kneeling on one knee in front of portrait covered by a crimson veil. “I’m sorry.” The apology cracked into a hoarse plea. “I always do this, don’t I? When I finally come around to it, it always seems to rain the worse.”_

_Andy’s hands crushed the edges of his shirt at the defeated sigh and called, “_ _Papa_ _.”_

_The man raised his head, glancing over his shoulder at the boy. A smile shrugged at the corner of his mouth. “Anders. I didn’t realize you came in.” He plopped back onto the floor and patted his leg. “Come say hi to_ _Mama_ _.”_

_Andy’s stomach twisted into a knot, yet he scurried over, practically throwing his self into the man’s lap. King Agdar wrapped his arms around Andy and rested his chin on his head. He shifted them towards the veiled portrait where a black casket lined with silver rested beneath it. Andy tightened his fingers around Agdar’s arms, resting his back against him._

_“_ _Papa_ _,” Andy said. Agdar looked down at the boy as he asked, “What were you saying sorry for?”_

_“I…” Agdar’s smile dropped and sighed. “I was planning on moving her out into the garden—you know how much she loved the garden—but it seems whenever I plan to do so it rains…it never stops raining.”_

_Andy’s brows furrowed as he looked away. He didn’t know his mother loved the garden._

_He didn’t know what his mother really loved._

_Agdar caught Andy’s distraught glance and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry Anders! I get so wrapped up that I keep forgetting you…” he trailed off until he gasped excitedly. “Anders, when the rain stops, how about I take you out to the garden! You’ll get to see all the flowers that_ _Mama_ _used to care for.”_

_Andy blinked at the glimmer beneath his red tinged eyes; the idea sparking the golden green orbs brighter than the candles could ever shine. Andy squeezed his arms and nodded. A grin split across Agdar’s face as he pressed his lips to Andy’s forehead, tickling the skin with the hint of his mustache._

_“_ _Papa_ _!” Andy squealed. “I’m too big!”_

_“You’ll never be too big for_ _Papa’s_ _kisses!” Agdar chuckled, tightening his arms around the boy’s tiny frame._

_“Kisses are for girls.” Andy huffed._

_Agdar’s smile softened and rested his chin on Andy’s head again._

_“You’re so much like your mother.” Agdar murmured. “She never wanted_ _Papa’s_ _kisses either. So mean.” Andy rolled his eyes while Agdar continued, “But…she always gave me flowers though. Every day before I woke, a new vase of flowers would turn up right beside my bed. They would always be from her garden. I think she liked living there_ _more_ _than_ _in_ _her own room. And at every chance I had, I would run out to the balcony just to get a glance of her surrounded by her kingdom of flowers.”_

_“You never saw her?” Andy asked._

_Agdar’s breath hitched. “Yes, of course I saw her. We were married after all. It’s just…” Andy’s brows rose quizzically as he turned away. His voice grew tight as if strung on a string he wasn’t supposed to be using. “She always seemed…distant. As if those kingdom of flowers were her only escape from the world. The rain was the only time I had her inside.”_

_Andy felt a shiver wrack down his back as he stared up at the thick veil over his mother’s portrait. Through the crimson draping over it, Andy felt as though the he was being devoured by an endless sea of red._

_A small squeak whined from the door suddenly. Andy glanced at the door, his skin flushing at the figure standing there. Ingvar, wrapped in the royal, white garbs of House Vetur, locked his gaze on them. His steel, gray eyes darkened from Agdar to Andy, growing stormier by the minute until he turned away. Right at his heels was another boy in a white tunic mirroring Ingvar’s. The boy paused at the door to glance inside. Andy’s fingers twitched and raised towards the door, stretching out for the other when the boy’s hands balled into fists and turned away._

_A howl of wind and thunder devoured the boy’s footsteps as he disappeared. Andy’s hand dropped to his lap, his other hand clinging tighter to his father’s arm. Another bolt of lightning flashed across the window, leaving the shattered remains of rain droplets dripping down a window upon the veil._

_“Anders, are you afraid of a little storm?” Agdar looked down at Andy and gently carded his fingers through his hair._

_Andy’s eyes were glued to the door, trembling as he nodded absentmindedly._

_“It’s just a storm,” Agdar said. “The only thing it can do, is trick you into being afraid.”_

_Andy blinked, nodding on command, and turned back to the veiled portrait. Through the faint shadow of the veil, Andy caught the faintest hint of silvery blue rousing behind the veil. Andy leaned back into his father’s chest and whimpered. The eyes followed him, waiting for him to the faint shadow of blue in her eyes ghosted behind the veil to watch him crumble._

_“_ _Papa,_ _” Andy said. “What are Uncle Ingvar and Elias doing?”_

_“Oh them?”Agdar said. “When the weather is terrible like this, Ingvar likes to have Elias learn more about his and your mother’s heritage—outside_ _of_ _Arendelle I mean. Or he’ll have him practice his magic.” Agdar paused, his lips thinning into a tight line._

_“Your brother is very powerful Anders—more powerful than the world can ever imagine. According to your uncle, he’ll be ready to conquer lands before he even turns 12.”_

_Agdar hugged Andy close to him, his breath tickling his ear, and whispered, “You know Anders, as much as I don’t like storms, they…make it so I have more time with your mother. And even though I can’t hold him like this, your brother even. So long as it rains, so long as it storms, they’re with us in here for a moment longer._

_“It’s a horrible thing for me to say, but for just a second more—I’ll take any storm.”_

_Andy stared up at his father and then at the casket. He placed his tiny hand over his father’s, leaning back against him until his head rested on his shoulder._

_“I don’t like storms either_ _Papa_ _,” Andy murmured, “but…”_

**_**I’ll be the storm if it keeps him from leaving.** _ **

Andy twitched, forcing his eyes to open as the memory faded into the far corners of his mind. He flicked his gaze around the small cavern with spheres of golden light fluttering around him. He carefully propped himself up on an elbow, his head spinning at the mere motion, and reached for one of the spheres. As if on command, the sphere floated closer to him and rested in his palm. Andy shivered at the warmth pulsing through the sphere that seemed to sink through his skin and touch his very bones.

Andy jerked out of his awe as the muffled voices grew louder. He turned to the edge of the cavern where a thick piece of cloth hovered over the opening. Andy shrank back under the covers until the cloth ruffled to the side. Two guards hovered outside of the cavern while a woman ducked in.

She stared at Andy huddled under the covers. A flurry of words fell from her mouth as she approached him, yet Andy could do no more than ogle her. Her brows furrowed down at him, speaking again with another, lighter tone. Another blank stare passed and Andy felt his cheeks burn.

“I,” Andy stumbled over the dialect, wracking his mind for the proper tone. “I…mean no harm.”

The woman blinked at him before bursting into a fit of laughter. Andy swore that if the floating spheres or burning flints didn’t burn him alive, the blush on his cheeks would. The woman held her side and knelt down.

“I can see that.”

Andy jumped as if her words physically slapped him, ogling her and wishing that the covers could just swallow him whole. She rested her elbow on one knee and tilted her head at him. A thick wave of loosely braided locks cascaded over her shoulder. A sliver of dark gold caught along her dark brown hair as her eyes bore into Andy’s.

“I see the aurums treated you well,” she said, nodding to the floating spheres. Andy, not trusting his tongue that had swelled to the roof of his mouth, nodded in return. The woman narrowed her eyes on his, and said, “You…look familiar. You are not from these mountains are you?”

“No.” Andy felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “I come from the Seer Kingdom of the nine realms.”

The woman arched an eyebrow. “You are from a noble family?”

“Not exactly. My name is Anders of Arendelle, second in line to the—”

“I knew it.”

Andy paused at the realization dawning on her face. She ran a hand through her hair with a breathless laugh.

“I knew I had seen those eyes somewhere before.”

Andy’s heart swelled in his chest, his tongue tangling words in excitement until she said, “Now I can kill you myself.”


	22. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So this is the first real update of this story since I first started it 5 years ago (wow). So there won't be anymore massive updates for a while (I'm sorry!). Butttttt I do write faster when I see comments or kudos about what you think of the story (just a little fyi). I hope you enjoy!

Andy felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. The color drained from his face as the words echoed in his mind and slowly caved in on him.

“W-what?”

The woman ran her gaze up and down his frame, her grin growing wider. “Yes,” she said, her fingers just grazing his neck. “That would be perfect.”

Andy gulped, feeling heat radiate from her fingertips against his Adam’s apple. Though she hadn’t touched him yet, he could feel her skin itching to grasp and squeeze. But as quickly as the grin came, it quickly twisted into a frown.

“As much as I would love to do the honors myself,” she groaned, “my brother would throw a fit if I killed you without him present.”

She shook her head before tapping one of the aurum spheres. The aurum floated down, bumping into Andy’s face. He batted the sphere away and saw her yank a dagger from her holster. Andy’s blood ran cold as she twirled the curved blade idly. The look she gave him was more menacing than a cat ready to tear into her prey.

“Now,” she drawled, dragging the dagger up his leg, “before I take you before the council for your trial, I want to know how the monster king is doing.”

Andy’s fists clenched at his sides. “He’s not a monster.”

He had all but breathed the words when he felt the dagger suddenly pressing against his cheek. The blade nicked his flesh, letting a bead of blood bloom from the wound as Andy struggled to catch his breath. Actually, he realized to his horror, he couldn’t breathe at all. Andy could hardly choke from how hard the woman’s fingers dug into his neck. He clawed at her arm weakly, but her hold was firm--and her glare just as deadly.

“Your king,” she spat the word out as if it were poison, “sullied our waters. Burned our land. Slit the throats of our young. And let’s not forget how he alienated us from all of our allies.”

She shoved him away. Andy fell back onto the mess of furs grasping his throat. He coughed on the air filling his lungs, hoping--praying--that the reality he was in would shatter and he would awake into a new one. Yet, as the guards filled the small space of the cavern, his heart toppled into the pit of his stomach. The men yanked him to his feet, holding his arms hard enough that the slightest resistance could break them. At this point he knew better than to fight against them, but the sight of the woman’s menacing scowl made him squirm nonetheless.

The guards brought him back out onto the edge of the clearing. His body tensed, waiting for them to toss him over into the bottomless mouth below. To his dismay, however, they tugged him away from the edge and down a narrow path. They shoved him forward into the darkness of a tunnel, nudging and yanking him through his blindness. He squinted to find an endless array of solid rock that seemed to stretch for miles.

Behind him, Andy could hear the woman barking orders at the guards in their mother tongue. They replied back with throaty jeers and grunts, none to subtly tripping Andy for good measure. Andy let the irritation buzz in his head; it silenced his heart that thudded for a different reason. With another shove Andy lost his footing, meeting the ground with a grunt. He groaned at the rocks digging into his face when he registered the steady beat of drums. He rolled to his side and winced at the light that blinded him.

People circled around him in a ring of stone that towered in tiered levels. Their faces were covered in bone with intricate carvings while their bodies where cloaked in thick furs. Andy followed the line of torches circling the stone to find himself alone in a massive clearing. Well, almost alone.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Egil writhing in rope and snarling at guards that held him at arm’s length. Andy would have been relieved if not for the basin of crackling coals they hovered Egil’s face over. Andy was so absorbed by the sights around him, he didn’t notice the sudden silence that engulfed the cavern. A man cleared his throat, deeper and richer than any drum, and Andy whirled forward.

Dark hair rolled down the man’s massive frame, pulled back by ornaments of gold and ivory. Despite the chill that seemed to continue to creep through the cavern’s cracks, his chest was bare and littered with pale scars that stretched up and down his body. It was a stark contrast to the rich, brown skin that illuminated under the torch light. His very presence silently screamed authority. But the glare that burned into Andy spoke volumes.

_Kill._

“Child of Seer,” the man spoke. Andy jolted at the voice that rumbled from the front of the circle. The man gripped the edge of stone railing hard, then let his lips curl into the faintest grin. “You are so much smaller than your king.”

Quiet chuckles filled the cavern as Andy felt his face warm. The man gestured for Andy to stand. As he shakily rose to his feet, the man turned his gaze to the rest of the people seated.

“My brothers and sisters. Today marks a day we thought we would never see,” he boomed. “10 years ago, we were forced to flee our motherland as she was drained of life by a war that was not ours. In turn, we have been targeted, assaulted, sold, and much worse. We’ve lost our home…family. All things that will never return.

But now, a child of the monsters who have brought these horrors has invaded our safe haven-- _again_ . A child of the empire who tore us apart has _dared_ to filthy our mountains with his presence. With all things considered, Child of Seer, we have every right to strike you down where you stand.” The man paused, taking a deep breath. “But, we hold ourselves higher than mindless slaughter. We hold ourselves with dignity, rather than greed. And we, deserve justice.”

Andy felt the weight of their eyes upon him. Though they stood at a distance, he could feel every gaze telling him a different story. Anger. Rage. Horror. Sorrow. He could hardly swallow around the lump in his throat at the thought of what they had to endure for all these years. _Was this what Elias had to witness in war?_

“We deserve hold the Seer Kingdom accountable for the crimes they have committed when we were pushed into exile,” the man continued. “And you, shall be the first example to the world. Queen Marisol, you have the floor.”

Andy ogled the woman from the small room stepped past him. She gracefully bowed at the man. She rose back up, back perfectly erect like a lioness.

“Thank you, my king Salazar,” she said. “My sisters and brothers. When these intruders breached our labyrinth walls, we thought a curse had fallen upon us. But this, is truly, a gift.” She turned her outstretched hand towards Andy, her voice echoing throughout the cavern. “I have looked into the Child of Seers’ eyes, and I now see the spoils of their war.”

Andy tensed as she began circling around him. “Bread on tables, clean water, joined hands of murderers that feast from laborers’ dying breaths.” She reached out and gripped his face. “But the look of chaos…that is what rings true in his eyes.”

Murmurs and hums echoed in the cavern. Salazar raised a hand and Marisol released Andy. Andy rubbed his cheeks where Marisol squeezed.

“Child of Seer,” Salazar said, “You may have a chance to speak your piece.”

Andy blinked. From the vicious remarks and glares, he was sure they would roast him on the spot. He chanced a glance at Egil, who meekly shrugged in reply.

“You’re time is running out child,” Salazar said.

Andy shook himself out of his stupor. The cavern swirled around him as he attempted regain his footing. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to look up at the king.

“P-people of,” Andy cursed at his stutter, swallowing hard. He caught sight of Egil nodding at him firmly and straightened. “You have indeed suffered a great loss. And for that…I am sorry. No amount of apologies could ever repair the damage that was done upon you during the seer wars.”

He paused, taking another deep breath. He clenched and un-clenched his fists. _Well, here goes._

“But that is not just the only reason that I am here,” Andy said.

“Then why are you here?” Salazer asked.

Andy held the king’s gaze. “Because the world of the Seer is in danger.”

Marisol snorted loudly. “And we should care? What happens outside of these caverns is none of our concern.”

“But it’s--”

Salazer’s glare silenced him, the words crawling back into his mouth. Marisol flicked her braid over her shoulder and turned around in the cavern.

“Do you hear this, my people?” Her words teetered on a laugh. “Years of exile, years of oppression, and they have the audacity to ask _us_ for help? This situation would be hilarious if wasn’t so sad.” The cavern was filled a moment of gasps and guffaws until Marisol turned back to Salazer. “My king, with your blessing, I will personally see to it that this vile creature is punished. And who knows, after I send him to his kingdom piece by piece, the monster king will give us back our beloved Eldora.”

Andy’s brows furrowed. In his lessons, his tutors had always spoken of the eighth realm fleeing the seas of the north to find refuge in the mountains. It was a cruel transition, but necessary for when the seer wars spread. But Eldora was a land along the equator. Andy flicked his gaze around the cavern again, taking in the dark complexions that were now flush from years away from the sun. He shook himself out of thoughts at the mention of Elias’ battalion.

“--need I remind you all of the day when _his_ ships landed on our shores?” Marisol said.

The firm resolve settled on Salazer’s face told Andy all he needed before he cut in.

“You’re right Queen Marisol!” Andy said. Salazer arched a brow at him, but he continued, “My brother’s forces did spread out further than anticipated. But he and his forces _only_ acted in the south, west, and north. He did not set foot in the east until after your kingdom fled.”

Marisol rolled her eyes. “He’s as dumb as he is clueless.” The cavern’s chuckles sparked a new found agitation in Andy.

“After the casualties of the first war, my brother swore he would never let his forces venture where he wasn’t present. The second war came and my brother held true to his word. He advised what allies he had to fight against the rebellious troops, but he would never willingly drive an entire populous from their homeland. Especially one as peaceful as yours.”

“I think we’ve heard enough of your diseased lies,” Marisol said.

“It’s not a lie!” Andy cried. “When he arrived on your shores, he was sure that the last of the rebel forces had driven you away or that you had fled for safety. All we knew was that you took to somewhere in the mountains.”

Marisol stalked towards him. Before Andy could move back, his arm was pinned to his back while her Marisol wrapped her forearm around his neck. Andy squirmed and thrashed in her firm grip to no avail.

“My king,” Marisol said. “I think it’s time for our final rule.”

Salazer nodded, looking up at his people. The guards holding Egil began to push him to the basin of coals as Salazer began to speak. As he asked his people to vote on his and Egil’s punishment, Andy tried to remember when he first volunteered to seek out of the eighth realm. Naivety and ignorance were far from his mind when he spoke that day. He knew the risk he was taking, but ignored the way his stomach had clenched and how his hands trembled. Deep in his bones, Andy knew that his plan had little chance of succeeding. Just as the members of the council knew. Just as Ingvar knew.

Just as Elias knew.

And yet--in the corners of Andy’s mind he was back behind castle walls as a little boy. He had snuck away from his tutors in favor and hidden himself in one of the many hidden passageways of the castle. He was creeping through a dusty corridor when he came across a dusty room. And him. Andy squinted at the frame of his brother huddled on the mattress, letting thick blankets of dust coat his uniform. 11 year old Andy was about to turn away when he heard muffled sobs. His brother, the young king. His brother, the supreme sorcerer. His brother, the savior of the Seer realm. His brother, sobbing, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

_I’m sorry._

Andy yanked out of Marisol’s grip for a brief second, shocking both her and himself. Before she could grab him again, he raced toward Salazer, bending his neck up to look him in the eye.

“Kill us if you want!” Andy yelled. “Torture us, use us for blackmail, use us for the vengeance you want! But that isn’t going to stop the Draugen!”

Andy had just fallen to the floor, ready for Marisol to snap his arms in half. But nothing came. Marisol had just pinned him to floor when she froze. The cavern grew eerily silent save for the crackle of torches. She looked down at him as if noticing he was there for the first time.

“What did you say?” she asked, her voice timid as if their words would break the floor beneath them.

“The Draugen.” Andy said. He twisted himself to look up at her. The shock in her expression was enough for him to press on. “They’re here. And they’re coming.”

Anxious whispers erupted in the cavern. Growing from quiet murmurs to tumultuous crying. Andy was helped to his feet by Marisol, her fingers gripping his shirt hard. As the cavern descended into mad shrieks, she looked up at him. The once fiery, teasing glitter in her amber eyes had widened with worry.

He heard Salazer’s voice booming for order when Marisol had whipped her head back and roared, “Silence!”

The cavern instantly fell quiet. Marisol returned her gaze on Andy.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Did you truly see the Draugen?”

Andy nodded grimly. “They’ve been sabotaging the other kingdoms’ supplies. Rendering them weak. Then they attack Arendelle.” He turned to Salazer, then to the people in the stone tiers. “I know you have no reason to trust me. And I don’t blame you. But I come here, not to mock you. I come to warn you. I’ve seen what the Draugen have done to innocent villages; they turn people-- _families_ \--against one another.” Otto and Jurij’s faces flashed in his memory and he choked down a sob. “The only reason, my kingdom is even standing now, is because of my brother. You say that he’s a monster, and maybe he is. But a monster doesn’t spend every waking moment of his life keeping wars and disputes at bay. A monster doesn’t…a monster doesn’t cry himself to sleep when no one’s watching.

Andy felt pin pricks of tears burning at the corners of his eyes. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He lifted his head, staring at everyone and no one.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness,” he said, “I only want our worlds to be safe.”

There were no murmurs this time. The silence seemed to cut through Andy worse than their blades had. Salazer turned to Marisol who nodded at him. The king straightened his shoulders.

“Those in favor of punishing the Seer kingdom,” Salazer said. Andy kept his head down, not daring to look up again. “And those in favor of defeating the Draugen…together.”

Andy’s jaw dropped. He turned, awestruck, as one hand rose in the air. Followed by another. And another. And another. Andy’s mind reeled as the people of the mountain cast their vote. When Marisol raised her hand, Andy thought his heart would stop there.

“The vote has been cast. You have our magic Child of Seer--on one condition.” Salazer said. “When this is over, your kingdom must return Eldora to us.”

Andy trembled, letting go of his fists he hadn’t realized he had clenched and raised a fist to his chest. He could feel his tears streaming down his face fast now. He could practically hear Ingvar chastising him for showing his emotions so easily. But the moment the verdict had been made, his body felt lighter than it had in months.

“I, Prince Anders of Arendelle--second in line and protector of the Seer Kingdom--give you my word that Eldora shall return to you and your people.”

“Down to the last grain of sand?” Marisol asked.

Despite how his bones groaned and how his body ached, a smile split across his lips. Radiant among the tears he spilled.

“Down to the last grain of sand.”

* * *

Eldorian ships were far different from Arendelle’s, Andy realized. Though narrower than most, Eldorian ships were vastly faster than any ships Andy had seen. Perfect for cutting through angry waters--and sky. Their exile in the mountains had forced them to become more creative with their magical reserves; with the power of sun stone, they were able to create portals to travel through for hunting or large expeditions.

When the portal had opened for them, the hulls of their ships fell to its sides. The ships tumbled through the air off the mountain only to catch onto the wind and glide through the portal, splashing onto the ocean waves as if they had been sailing all along. It was truly marvelous to behold. However Marisol chose to withhold her explanation of Eldorian ship dynamics until after Andy’s panic attack at falling ceased.

“I was only teasing,” Marisol had said. At his, Egil’s--and a small group of her soldiers’ glares--she finally relented into an apology. “You can tease me on one of your Seer traditions when we arrive. How does that sound?”

That had been three nights ago. Three nights since they had set sail for Arendelle. Set sail for home. Every dawn Andy would examine their nautical maps, running his fingers from their last marked position to the massive land mass in the east. Warmth swelled in his chest as he beamed down at the map until his stomach began to churn.

Andy raced from the room and to the upper deck, throwing himself against the railing as he heaved overboard. The salty air and rocking of the ship did little to quell his nerves, but Andy was proud of the fact that he didn’t spew more than once the night before. He was proud of that fact for two minutes until he was wheezing over the railing again. As he retched what little food he had in his stomach, a low whistle came behind him.

“Not a fan of sailing?” Egil asked.

Andy spat out bile, wiping the corner of his mouth the back of his hand. At the sight of the glistening, blue waters below his chest tightened. As he watched the waves lapping against the ship, he could feel the waves rough touch like a ghost against his skin. Turning him over and over again in darkness. He turned away from the water, clutching the railing.

“Bad memories,” he murmured.

Egil slapped a hand against his back with a grin. “Well leave some room for some good ones. Cause they’re coming.”

“I doubt that. We still have a war to get through.”

Egil rolled his eyes, nodding his head towards the soldiers scurrying across the deck. Andy followed his gaze. He took in the sight of them hoisting and lowering sails, charting and marking courses as day break slowly plumed along the horizon.

“You did this.” Egil said. “You’re giving the world a fighting chance. It may be a small one, but it’s a chance nonetheless.”

His words shocked him still. Andy opened and closed his mouth, searching for words. But any that came were caught behind the lump in his throat. Egil looked at him now, dark blue eyes glittering like lapis lazuli in the morning sun. The small smile he gave him made Andy want to shrink into himself and embrace him all at once. Egil arched a brow at him, daring him to argue. _God_ , Andy thought, _he acts so much like Elias._

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Andy said.

Egil ran a hand through his messy hair. “I only saved you, guided you, saved you again. Or was it three times I saved you? Whatever. You did all the talking like a real diplomat.”

“I wish. If my uncle saw that, I would have been beaten and sent to bed without supper for two weeks.”

Andy chuckled at a similar memory in his youth. He waited for Egil’s laughter to chime in with his only to catch the grim smirk on his lips.

“Sounds like a lovely family,” he said.

“Well that was only one time. He spends most of his helping my brother anyway,” Andy replied. At his silence, Andy tentatively grasped onto Egil’s arm. “I truly do owe you my life Egil. Whatever you want--whatever you need--if it’s within my power, I will make sure you get it.”

Egil stared at him before turning to look towards the water. For a moment Andy thought he would decline when Egil took a deep breath.

“There…is something.” Egil said. Andy’s ears perked. “I’ve been searching for someone. My brother, actually. We were separated a long time ago when we were young. It happened so fast. I didn’t even get a chance to--” He swallowed hard before clearing his throat. “I thought I had a lead back in Alcadria, but that turned out to be another dead end. Now I’m running out of options.”

Andy felt his heart constrict in his chest. As he looked at the pained expression on Egil’s face, he saw the lost expression of a little boy waiting everyday at the gates for his brother to come home. And even after he did, he was still gone.

“What was your last lead?” Andy asked.

“Somewhere in the Chamberlain isles,” Egil sighed. “Not like I can afford to sail across the--”

“It’s yours.” Andy said. He gripped Egil’s arm firmly. “Whatever ship you need, whatever crew, whatever coin--anything--it’s yours.”

Egil finally looked back to Andy. “You don’t have to do that?”

“Perks of being a ‘real’ diplomat,” Andy replied. “That and being related to the king and all. I’m in your debt. All I ask is that you let me repay it.”

Egil’s brows furrowed and he clasped his hand over Andy’s. “Thank you.”

Andy beamed. “Of course. And who knows, maybe your brother might be even closer now than you realize.”

Egil’s lips finally broke out into a smile and for a moment, Andy relished in it. His body hummed with delightful energy at the good he was finally doing. At the hope he was finally spreading to his allies. _For once_ , Andy thought, _he was the shield for his kingdom_.

Egil nudged his shoulder against Andy’s. Andy jumped from being shaken from his thoughts, eliciting a chuckle from the other man. Egil tilted his head at him, grinning, “Perhaps you’re right after all, your highness.”

  
  



	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last. The fated reunion has come.

He was only seven years old when he was given his first lesson about war.

_ “In war Elias,”  _ King Agdar had said whilst picking up a pawn from the faded chess board, “ _ if you know yourself and your enemy, you will conquer any war you face. But if you know neither, then doom will be your only companion.” _

The man had knocked over his queen with a light tap and set his pawn piece next to Elias’ king. He vaguely remembered how flabbergasted he was, watching a lowly pawn skirt through his ranks so easily and hold his precious unit’s life in its hands. Despite his careful planning, his precision of laying out his units, and demanding hours of practice from his uncle, he was rendered helpless with one move.

He remembered crying. That was as clear as water with Agdar patting his back in reassurance. He saw himself, ruddy faced with snot dripping from his nose, crying into his arms that his father cheated, tricked him, or used some sort of magic that Elias did not yet possess. King Agdar merely chuckled at his protests, swearing he had no magic of any kind. After wiping his face dry, he had tugged Elias into a hug and told him that he would do better next time.

But next time never came.

Elias had few memories of father--fewer of his mother--but those memories grew stronger the moment of the king’s passing. Ingvar had instilled a more brutal, calculative approach to his war education that had served him well when he had been sent to the front lines. And he was grateful for it when it mattered. But the memories of his father, though fleeting, came at the most unexpected times. The ones that mattered followed him into his elder years when he needed them the most. When he was dressing a scratch on Andy’s arm when he had fell running after him; when he had been handed to the army’s ranks; when he saw the emptiness in a soldier’s dead eyes for the first time; when he was crowned king to an entire realm who bowed not out of respect--but fear.

_ Know yourself and your enemy.  _ And Elias did. Or he at least tried to in the presence of his allies. Their voices boomed in the war room, a cacophony of nerves and agitation. The shrillness of their voices had become white noise in the background as Elias glared down at the table. Colorful rectangular tiles laid sparsely across the weathered map pinned to the table. Many of them were swept off to the side, just as lost as the hoards of soldiers they had sent in their place. Elias’ stomach was knot of sorrow and anger as the black rectangles bleeding across the map mocked him.

_ They  _ were everywhere. Clustered in the deciduous lands of the west. Spread thick in the deserts of the east. Then, the black tiles flared up and around the south, snaking in a half formed loop that slithered closer to the center of the map. Just barely touching the borders of the inner countries of the Seer realm. Elias dug his fingers into the wood of the table so hard he could feel it begin to splinter.

His father’s words echoed in his subconscious. Though the Draugen were before his time, Elias gathered from his allies that they were merciless, primal, and only sought destruction. And Ingvar, had grazed over the subject with battle tactics and defense lines that would be impenetrable. But none of this information sated the growing dread in Elias’s being.

Asides the north, the Draugen practically had all members of the realm at their mercy. Elias’ generals had come back to him with stories of his men being burned from the inside out from a single touch only to crumble like dried flowers left too long out in the sun. Of men being pierced and torn to shreds after setting foot in traps. The horrors went on and on in their allies’ countries, and yet--they dared not touch Arendelle save for that fateful night. Weeks of preparation and evacuation to safe holds only to be met with silence.

They were not mindless. That much was clear from the way their armies encased them all from the inside out. And they had everything to gain from each of their countries’ vast resources. But the same thing evaded Elias like all those years ago in at the chess board with his father. The same thing that render his plans useless. The same thing that made him ignore that one insignificant pawn.

Elias took a black tile from the map and brought it up to the fleeting light. He turned it over and over as if it would give him the answer he needed.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

A loud bang of the doors slamming open shocked the room into silence. An Arendellian guard panted heavily, his eyes shifting wildly until they fell on Elias. He bowed his head apologetically.

“Your majesty,” the guard said. “I have urgent news. A boat has docked in our harbor.”

One of the generals in the room snorted sardonically and shot the guard a dirty glare. The other generals in the room followed, grumbling about how their meeting was disturbed. Elias waved a hand, a hush falling upon them instantly.

“Did our troops from Bayangor return?” Elias asked.

The guard shook his head. Even as he stood with his back erect, he shook as if the information inside him were about to make him combust.

“The Eighth realm,” he breathed, “they’re  _ here _ .”

Elias dropped the tile in his hand. The tile clattered onto the map, forgotten, as he ran the words through his head. Despite all of his training and education, all he could utter was, “What?”

“That’s impossible!” A Spanish general said.

“That’s what we thought when they docked,” the guard said, his hands moving as if reenacting the moment. “They said they were from Eldoria and we began to bring them in for questioning, but then Prince Anders jumped out of nowhere and--”

Elias heart skipped a beat. He no longer heard the guard’s tale or the calls of his generals. Only the rapid beat of his feet as he tore down the halls. He thought he heard Ingvar’s voice in the distance as he jumped down a flight of stairs or perhaps it was a maid who saw nothing but a dark blue blur as Elias broke out of the doors of the servants’ entrance and raced down towards the docks. He worked his way down the winding dirt path that led into the back alleys of the village where towering figures of trees and broken trunks covered old beaten paths. But Elias leapt, ducked, whisked, and slid over everything in his path.

Cool wind bit at his cheeks and the daunting silhouettes of ships grew larger until their shadows engulfed his own. His heartbeat pounded in his ear drums while he twisted back and forth along the rows of bobbing ships in the water. It was only until he heard the aggressive shouting, heard the scraping of metal upon metal, heard the timid but commanding voice did he turn round again. The moment his eyes landed on the familiar bed of strawberry-blonde hair of the boy who wedged himself in between a furious ports man and tall, dark skinned woman ready to tear into him, did the world finally fall back into focus.

He approached the ship in large strides until he was rounding up the wooden planks leading to the mouth of the hull when he called out, “Andy!”

The boy all but froze, twisting himself around before he looked down to see Elias looking up at him. He stood on his tip toes, trying to poke his head over the ports man’s shoulder. A grin split across his lips, shining brightly like the sun that’s just peaked into dawn, and waved.

“Elias!” he called.

Elias felt his heart swell in his chest. It was as if the fog that had wrapped around him since the report of the ship sent to the north finally lifted, letting him breath once more. His body ached to rush to Andy. To pull him into a hug that would most certainly squeeze the life out of him. Elias took a step forward, but a tug deep in his core made him stay put. The same dreadful, heavy feeling that surfaced when he finally returned from war.

_ Know yourself. _

Elias swallowed thickly and took a step back, finally noticing the stomping of his guards behind him. As they took to the ship, Elias continued to step away from the dock board until he was back on the pavement of the docks. He didn’t know whether to curse or thank his father for that lesson all those years ago. While he knew it should be the latter, the former only seemed to make the small distance between him and the boy larger than before. He barely heard Andy shout elatedly, “See! Now would you kindly stop pointing your hook at me and--Marisol, no! Put the dagger away!”

* * *

Of all the ways Andy imagined his homecoming to be like, being held at sword point by a swarm of guards and ports hands was the furthest from his mind. He had anticipated Marisol holding her dagger to his throat at least twice during the journey, but having his own people hold him at bay with their fishing hooks, nets, and guns was entirely surreal. The moment that Elias called out his name with a small army of guards behind him, Andy swore that his luck had had to have run out by now.

With the guards reassured that the second prince was indeed real and with Andy’s assurance that the Eldorians meant no harm, they were finally allowed to step off board. The moment Andy stepped off the wooden plank onto solid cobblestone of the port, nostalgia swathed him in sea salt air of the port. Though the evening had darkened the sky with shades of orange and red, the dark points of the castle and wisps of smoke from the village made his chest flutter and cave in at once. The moment was short lived however with a jab of an elbow into his side.

“You didn’t tell me it would be this warm here,” Marisol said, shrugging her cloak slightly off her shoulders.

Andy squinted at the yellowing leaves that littered the ground and frowned. “We’re just at the end of autumn. How is this warm?”

Marisol gave him a bemused expression before Andy flushed. So quick to forget how the mountain's arctic temperatures had numb the feel of anything cold from her bones. He was about to apologize when he spotted a man striding towards them through the crowd soldiers and men racing along the port. Even from afar, Andy could see the dark indigo and green uniform ruffled from the day, but the man carried himself with all the grace and power of the world. Andy couldn’t help the curl of a grin at his lips at the unfazed stature as Elias approached.

His arms ached, not just from unloading supplies from the ship, but to throw himself around Elias and never let go. To have something to anchor him to the ground and assure him that he was truly there. When Elias was within arm’s length, he moved towards him only to falter at the fist punching his arm. 

“You had us worried sick,” Elias said. 

Andy rubbed his arm in mock hurt. He opened his mouth to speak, but felt his words tangle in his throat. He had rehearsed what he was going to say on the ship, but couldn’t seem to find them in the sudden roar of his heartbeat.  _ Bet you didn’t think I could do it, did you? I come bearing allies to help us win the war. Let’s see the Draguen try to take us down! Who's the cheap bet now?  _ But none of those things came. He choked on the sandy scratch of his tongue, eliciting a look of concern from Elias.

Out of the corner of Andy’s eye he caught a glance of Marisol. Her eyes were trained on Elias, cold and foreboding, but with something else. If he looked at her hard enough, he could see how her hands flexed and unflexed into fists. The muscle in her jaw ticking from how hard she clenched her teeth. At a glance, she looked ready to pounce at the slightest movement--not going unnoticed by the guards who took a step closer to their king. But to Andy, after spending weeks being victim to her jokes and violent outbursts, he saw what the Eldorians did when they first laid eyes on him. Fear.

Andy swallowed down his unease. Now was not the time for sentimental yearning. No matter how badly his body yearned for it.

"I'm sorry for not informing you of my status, my King. But I come home amongst an ally," Andy said. He gestured a hand towards Marisol. "May I present, Queen Marisol of the Eighth Realm."

Elias tilted his head at the woman before bowing his head to her. Marisol straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin at him.

"Your majesty," Elias said, looking up to meet her gaze. "Thank you for traveling all this way. I am sure Andy has informed you of the state of distress we are under."

"Yes," Marisol replied. "We are aware. My king has sent with me a handful of battalions to aid you."Elias was about to reply until Marisol raised a hand to halt him. " _ But  _ only if you honor our agreement."

"Agreement?" Elias asked.

A couple of generals had wandered over to them. Elias paid their questions no mind as Marisol crossed her arms over her chest. 

"Your prince has promised the return of Eldora to my people if we volunteer our service to your campaign," she said, jutting her chin at him. 

The guards looked at one another uneasily while the generals that had crowded around Elias choked on her words. 

"Give  _ you  _ Eldora?" One of the generals gawked. "My lord you must be insane."

"Your majesty," another interjected, "our trade routes depend on Eldora's location. Surrendering it will be economic suicide!"

The generals' complaints boiled into a cacophony of protests. Andy winced at the deadly glares they shot his way. He fought the urge to hide behind Marisol's frame when Elias turned to them and snapped, "Enough."

The generals immediately fell silent. His glare dared them to speak again and he turned back to Marisol. 

"You and your people have given us a gift that no amount of gold could ever pay by being here," Elias said. "But you also returned my brother. I have no words to express my deep gratitude as I will forever be in your debt."

At that, Marisol blinked. "So you will return Eldora?"

A hint of a smile graced Elias' lips. "Whatever your people need my Queen." Elias nodded over to the stream of people moving on and off of the Eldorian ships. “Perhaps we should get you and your people settled. Afterwards we can discuss more about your land.”

Marisol spared a cautionary glance at Andy, who grinned at her sheepishly, and returned the gesture with a nod of her own. She marched forward with Elias towards the ships with the guards following after. The remaining generals spluttered, protests falling flat and empty. He could feel the stinging bite of their glares on him. One of the generals stepped towards him, but faltered as if seeing a ghost. Andy didn’t have time to speculate the sudden halt when a hand fell on his shoulder. Andy glanced up to see Ingvar towering over him and winced. 

“Excuse me gentlemen,” Ingvar said, moving his hand to hug Andy into his side. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to steal my nephew away for a bit.”

“B-but my Lord!” One of the generals said. “We need to discuss the Eldorian occupation. He just gave away one of our lands like it was a toy!”

Andy swore under his breath. He had imagined what he would say to Ingvar over a thousand times. But all those times were with the idea that Elias would be there to soften the news. The unreadable expression on Ingvar’s face sent a chill running through Andy’s bones. 

“Did he?” Ingvar said. “Well, looks like you and I have  _ a lot  _ to catch up on Anders.”

The general was about to protest again, but his fellow colleagues merely shook their heads at him. Dejected, he stood by while Ingvar led Andy away. Andy’s teeth dug into his bottom lip the further down they walked down the port. It was only under the giant shadow casted by the trees and ships’ hulking masts did Ingvar let him go. Andy bit his lip, steadying himself under the torrent of wrong doings he had done. But as he let out a breath, words spewed from his mouth like an angry storm.

“I know I shouldn’t have made that promise!” Andy exclaimed. “But there was nothing else I could do. They were so angry, and I didn’t have anything else to offer them. They’re good people who deserve their land back and--”

“How did you do it?”

“What?”

Ingvar tilted his head at him curiously. “We had gotten word three months ago that the ship you stowed away on had been attacked by a raiding ship. The only people who survived were Ferdinand and two others.” Ingvar’s brows knitted together. “How did you survive the attack?”

Andy blinked hard. His memories were as murky as that night when he had been tossed overboard. He swallowed thickly, feeling the waves battering him, and put a hand to his head. 

“I...that night I…” He stammered.

Ingvar pinned him with a look. He brushed loose silver strands from his face and sighed.

“We’ll discuss the incident later. And I  _ do  _ mean later,” Ingvar said. “I suppose we should assist your eighth realm allies in settling in shouldn’t we?”

“You...you’re not mad that I promised them their country back?”

“Oh, I’m furious,” Ingvar said. Andy flinched at the eerie calm in his voice, but didn’t shy away from him resting his hand on his shoulder again. “But, I honestly thought you would never return. Alive or otherwise. You...surprised me, Anders.” 

Andy waited for the backhanded remark of his sloppy diplomatics. Or for the grueling lecture of how he had set them back years from progress. When neither of those came, Andy let his heart skip a beat. The warmth in his chest felt so foreign he almost missed the call of his name. Andy looked up towards the ship to see Egil waving at him. 

“Egil!” Andy yelled, waving him down. “Uncle, there’s one other thing I promised.”

The barest hint of fondness turned into a frown on Ingvar’s lips. He rolled his eyes as Egil disappeared behind the railing and scuffled down the dock. 

“We need to work on you making promises,” Ingvar said dryly.

“This one isn’t as big...much anyway,” Andy flushed. “Since this is a smaller request, I was hoping you could help me do it.”

Andy ignored the sardonic glare, beaming as Egil neared them. He shrugged the knapsacks he carried on his shoulder onto the ground. Andy tugged him forward and cleared his throat.

“Uncle, this is Egil. He’s the reason why I’m standing here today,” Andy said. Egil tutted, mocking bashfulness. Andy nudged his arm and continued, “Egil saved me when I entered the eighth realm. Of course, I didn’t know I was in the eighth realm yet. But he’s stuck with me all this time. And I want to repay him for all that he's done.”

Andy turned to look at Egil and trailed off. Ingvar’s eyes widened and his brows pinched tight as he stared at the man. Andy cleared his throat more forcefully to no avail. He gave Egil an apologetic smile before clearing his throat again. 

“Uncle,” Andy said. “Uncle Ingvar?”

Ingvar finally looked at Andy. “What? Oh, yes. I’m sorry, you just look so...” Ingvar shook his head. “I apologize. It’s been an eventful evening.”

“Yes, it has,” Egil said. “I don’t need anything sir. It was an honor to assist your nephew.”

“No!” Andy said. “You’re getting that ship.”

“Ship?” Ingvar asked.

Andy winced and straightened his shoulders. “Egil is in search of someone. I promised him a ship and coin to assist him. Since he saved me. Multiple times. Did I mention that he also found the Eldorians in the mountains.”

Andy gave him a large smile, hoping Ingvar’s lessons of appearances would pay off for once. And it did. Ingvar sighed deeply and wrung his hands together. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ingvar said. “Given our current circumstances, I’ll need some time to gather your resources.”

Egil smiled. “Thank you, your grace.”

“I should be thanking you. You did bring our prince back in one piece after all.” He paused, frowning at him again. “I should go assist our king. I’m sure Anders will treat you well in the meantime.”

“Of course.” Andy said.

Ingvar nodded at the two of them and walked back down the length of the port. Egil waited a beat before asking, “Is he still looking at me?”

Andy glanced behind him. “Wait. Okay, he’s gone now.”

“Thank the gods,” Egil breathed, snatching the knapsacks from the ground. “I couldn’t tell if he wanted to thank me or punish me.”

“I’m sorry about that. He’s not usually this...this…”

“Intimidating?”

“Distracted.”

“Well, all of this  _ is  _ distracting. The realms are reunited. The stakes are evened. The prince returns. I don’t blame him.”

Andy watched his uncle fade into a dot of white until he was engulfed in the sea of bodies. His uncle was many things. But lost and distracted was not one of them. He thought as much until Egil shoved one of the knapsacks into his arms. Egil flung an arm around Andy’s shoulders as they walked down the port.

“So, my  _ royal host, _ ” Egil smirked. “Will I be fending for myself when you’re not tending to your duties?” 

Andy rolled his eyes. “Whenever I’m  _ not  _ on duty or trying to get you your ship, I shall be giving you the grandest tour of Arendelle.”

“I feel so honored.”

“As you should.” Andy grinned. “It’s not every day I personally tend to an honored guest. Perhaps I shall even show you the royal model ship collection.”

Egil arched a brow at him. “Are you serious?”

Andy shrugged. “They were a gift.”

Egil tossed his head back with obnoxiously loud laughter. He wiped a stray tear from his eye, chuckling breathlessly.

“I hope you’re ready for this.”

Andy glanced at the expanse of mountains overhead. He felt the crisp air that carried the scent of pine and frost whisked around him in an embrace. And as he looked his people--his realm coming together--and up towards the shadow of Arendelle’s flag flapping in the wind at the mouth of the port, he smiled ferociously. 

“I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Another chapter update; yay us! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are down in the comments below or drop a kudo. I'm a glutton for comments/reviews/kudos. I know. So shameless I am (lol). Thank you for reading and see you next chapter :) Stay healthy and safe!


	24. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could fix this.  
> He was helping.  
> He will fix this.

This was _supposed_ to be the easy part. Or so Andy, and the 12 volumes of Arendelle’s _Art of War_ collection he buried himself in, thought. Analyzing the target had long been passed from what Arendellian generals informed him. Casualties had relatively decreased since the Eldorian fleet joined their ranks along with the reclaim of quite a number of ally’s lands. There was still the surprise attack that no one could have predicted that caused them to lose a ship, but for the first time in months the Seer Realm was finally meeting the Draguen with an equal hand.

Now, as stated in volume ten section 45, subpart 13 that Andy circled so hard that the page tore, was the time to lay out future options for after the war. _Better to have some semblance of plan, then to be more at a loss than you were before,_ Elias had told Andy when changing his assignments. Despite the slightly condescending tone when he said it, Andy was secretly grateful to not be in the war room anymore. He withstood five meetings before his brother and uncle pulled him aside where Ingvar _politely_ told him, “ _Either cry yourself dry before meetings or don’t bother showing up at all.”_

To Andy’s surprise, Elias met all of Ingvar’s stinging remarks with glares and remarks so fierce it made the bickering in the war room look like child’s play. Actually, Andy mused, he was surprised that Elias was keeping him so involved at all.

After returning home, Andy was swept into a myriad of meetings and plans so far out of his depth he questioned why he was present. But every general and royal leader of the realm met his innocent inquiries with intense and serious responses. Like he had been working by their sides all along. Like he existed all along. When the answers to his questions began to leave his skin ashen or green, Elias switched tactics and placed him charge of keeping stock of supplies and future plans. Andy had argued at first, saying he could indeed handle it and would “cry himself dry” for now on.

“ _It may not seem relevant now, but when this is all over people need a new direction,”_ Elias had said. He had moved his hand from Andy’s shoulder to the back of his neck, giving a gentle squeeze. Andy had to restrain himself from jumping out of his skin at the gesture Elias hadn’t done since they were children. Elias gave him a sheepish smile then, so small and fragile that it made any rebuttal Andy had evaporate instantly. “ _You’re good at new direction. And no matter what the others may say, I need it.”_

So Andy changed positions without further complaints. Besides, as the books stated, this was the easy part where hope superseded fear. Or, that’s what Andy thought before the screaming match began.

Chairs lay on their sides, discarded on the floor along with several papers, while the generals stood around the table barking at one another. The veins in their foreheads bulged hard from scarred and snarled faces, making the men appear more like wolves preparing to fight than the medal decorated men they were. Andy pressed his fingers to his temple, absentmindedly wondering if Elias put him here as a mercy or punishment. After giving him the scare of a life time, Andy figured it was the latter. 

“Why should Weselton receive the most aid when they’ve barely contributed anything to this war?” A Spanish general with a scar running over his eye snapped.

“Because,” A Weselton general, a man with a thick beard engulfing his mouth said, “Majority of the supplies sent to the troops have been from us. It only makes sense that we get back what we lost.”

“If you want to do something, how about sending more men!”

Andy sighed deeply through his nose. He glanced down at the notes on his corner of the table and frowned. They were making decent progress with plans to rebuild cities and farmland since they designated Arendelle as the emergency supplier with clothing, sails, food, and weaponry, but once water was brought into the discussion, they had sunk into worse arguments than in the war room. Andy felt a headache clawing at the base of his skull when he felt a nudge against his knee.

Marisol sat beside him, her notepad just as bare as his, and flicked her eyes from him to the standing generals. After working side by side for almost six months, Andy recognized the silent question and nodded, mouthing a quiet _please_. Marisol straightened in her chair and cleared her throat.

“Gentlemen,” her voice cut through the arguing like a knife through paper. The men grew silent and she tapped her fingers on the table. “I will kindly remind you that we are discussing the future of the most _vulnerable_ countries. Our present may allow us to get by, but not theirs. It will behoove both of you to remember that so that we may use our time together wisely.”

A mix of admiration and jealousy coiled in Andy’s stomach as the men gave each other one last glare before seating themselves. Andy shook his head, shaking the heat building in his cheeks away and flipped to a new page of his notes.

“As we were discussing,” he said, “we will have to update the trade routes as these events continue to ensure that clean water among other resources can reach the Eastern Isles. The routes should stay the same for the most part, however we will most likely need to redraw the routes through the western countries.”

“Your highness,” a woman said, “if I may?”

Andy paused as he turned to look in her direction. She wore a fitted dark blue and maroon uniform with bronze lapels on her shoulders. The colors of the Southern Isles, he noted. He blinked hard, skimming the auburn hair pulled back into a tight bun upon her head and green eyes that looked at him patiently. He wracked his brain for a moment, trying to remember where he had seen her before.

“Yes?” he asked, cursing himself on forgetting her name. Had she given a name? The generals and meetings blended together so much, it was almost impossible to remember who was who. and on her.

The woman nodded to him, as if forgiving him for not speaking her name, and leaned over the table. She pointed a gloved finger to west of the map.

“We won’t need to entirely reestablish the routes if the future Eldorian land remains open.” She flicked her gaze to Marisol. “Without entry, it will take an additional week maybe more depending on the resources being traded to reach other lands. However, if you keep your land open trade will still occur within a week near your closest allies.”

Marisol snorted. “Closest allies?”

“Assuming Eldora enters the Seer Realm as an ally,” the woman shrugged. “Naturally you’d be granted additional protection and other valuable resources should you be open to your fellows. That is your intention isn’t it?”

The bemused expression on Marisol’s face melted, dragging her lips and brow into a deep frown. She intertwined her fingers together and leaned over the table.

“That remains to be seen,” Marisol said. “My main concern once this is over is transitioning my people back to their homeland safely and reestablish our roots. I am not opposed to trade routes remaining as is, however I do not wish to make any promises for Eldora’s future without my king and council to consult with. What you mention shall just be another option to consider.”

“Of course,” the woman said, sliding back into her chair. “I was only concerned with some of the poorer regions in the west who have suffered and would be unable to access those routes. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Your highness, what was the latest update on the water transport units?”

As Andy flipped through his papers and discussed the change in water units, he chanced a look around the table. While some of the table members were nodding along with his words, many were looking at Marisol. News of Elias’ land reclamation had sent more than a shock throughout the allies. Within days of the Eldorians’ arrival, Elias had signed a proclamation promising their land returned once the enemy was extinguished. No one dared argue with the king. Nor did they bother attempts of persuasion with his regent. Andy heard heated grumblings here and there during meeting breaks, but Marisol bared the full brunt of the ire.

It was the little things. The bumps in the hall, the hushed slurs, the barked shouts of men the size of three bears. Yet Marisol never took the bait. She kept herself composed like the true queen of the sun. In public that was. Andy had lost count of how many times he had to avoid her wrath when she spoke about wanting to strangle them. Given their deadly glares now, he could tell that another shouting match was brewing. He glanced at Marisol and the thin outline of vein creasing her temple and sighed.

“That will be enough for today,” Andy said. “We’ll continue this discussion in a fortnight.”

The table members nodded to him, gathering their own papers as they streamed out of the room. Two of the generals, Scar and Beard Andy saw, made their around the table towards Marisol. She tensed, gripping the back of her chair tight until Andy cleared his throat.

“Queen Marisol,” he said, “I’m still at a loss on our stock for lamb. Would you mind staying behind to go over them with me?”

Marisol flexed her fingers and turned to him. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

The generals forced passive masks on their faces before leaving the room. The moment they did, muted shouts echoed down the hallway. Marisol sagged against the chair with a long sigh.

“You saved my hide,” she said.

“Correction,” Andy said, gathering his papers into stacks, “I saved their hides. I couldn’t tell if you were going to tell them off or if I would find their bodies in the stables tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Their bodies would have been found in the port.”

Andy shoved a fist to his mouth, but his laughter escaped in a spluttered snort.

“Alright, true. I should have known better,” he said.

Marisol gave him a grin that disappeared as she eyed the growing stacks of papers in Andy’s arms. “I do not envy your job in the slightest.”

“It’s a job,” Andy shrugged. “And I’m staying useful. I’m surprised your stack isn’t as tall.”

“Stock and resources are more Salazer’s domain. War and combat are mine. Besides, I’m just here to make sure no one tries to swindle Eldora of her land.”

Andy couldn’t help wincing despite the lack of fire in her voice. From how she eyed the door and the empty chairs, he knew her words weren’t for him. Yet his mind couldn’t help but fill her sentence with an unspoken _you._

Andy shuffled his papers to one arm and pressed his fingers to his temple. They nearly spasmed under his touch and he groaned.

“You alright?” Marisol asked.

Andy grit his teeth and nodded. “Yeah, just a little headache is all.”

Marisol hummed in reply, casting another grimace at the papers. “So, do you really need me for stock count or…”

“Go on,” Andy said, “I’m sure the generals are tucked away having another private shouting match by now.”

Marisol quickly poked her head out the door, glancing up and down the hall. She sported Andy with a thumbs up before scurrying away. Andy moved to lock up his remaining files behind the desk in the back of the room. He was about to tuck today’s recent papers away when his head throbbed again. Eyes watering and the day’s discussions echoing in his mind, he skimmed his notes and sucked in a breath. He could formulate a basic plan tonight and run it by through the treasurer and resource leads tomorrow morning. The burning his temples was protest enough to shove everything in the desk and leave.

_“You’re good at new direction. And no matter what the others may say, I need it.”_

Andy sighed deeply and tucked the papers, along with a few others, under his arm. _You’re being useful. You’re being useful._ Andy told himself as he closed the drawer.

“Your highness?”

Andy jumped out of skin at the voice. He crushed the files to his chest as if they would keep his heart from hammering out of him and looked up. The woman in the Southern Isles uniform stood at the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. “I had knocked, but you were so engrossed in your files.”

Andy patted his chest, making sure his heart was still there and beating. His shoulders sagged instantly.

“You’re fine,” he breathed. “You must have been waiting there for quite some time. I’m sorry…” He flushed.“I’m so sorry, regent…”

The woman chuckled, a sheepish smile shrugging on her lips. “You flatter me. I would be so lucky to represent my kingdom in such a role. I’m a colonel from the Southern Isles. We met briefly during the strategy sessions when you returned.”

Andy wanted to smack himself. Of course he’d seen her before. He had just been too preoccupied not trying to lose his stomach when they discussed new information from interrogations and what they had to do to get said information. Andy silently prayed that in his next life he would be a humble bread maker instead of a monarch.

He ran a hand down his face and side stepped around the desk towards her.

“I am so, so sorry,” he said.

“It’s alright. I blend into the scenery anyway,” she said. At his blanched expression she added, “I’m more quiet in large meetings. It helps to observe and plan rather than speak all at once. Most generals and envoys are more preoccupied with being the loudest in the room rather than making sense. Much like our fellow Wesleton and Spaniard allies showed.”

Andy chuckled and the woman whispered, “I think the real envoys that were supposed to join us were devoured by the two of them. That would explain the extra groaning that came from their stomachs.”

The laugh that escaped Andy was so loud, he had to clasp a hand over his mouth. But at the woman’s pleased expression, he let himself laugh out loud.

“I shouldn’t be laughing,” he said between chuckles. “If they heard that they would grow even more hysteric.”

“We’ll take this secret to the grave,” she said. She looked him up and down then. “Still working?”

“Well, I figured if I moved some numbers around a little more then I could make a more agreeable plan than the one discussed today. Some quiet might bring more revelations.”

“I agree. Do you require assistance bringing about these revelations?”

“Oh, no! I’m good. Perfect. You’ve been a great help already. I’m sure you’ll have much to discuss with your general.”

The corner of the woman’s mouth twitched. Andy couldn’t tell if she was suppressing a frown or searching for words. She shook her head and gave him another smile.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Would you mind if I walk with you to your quiet enclave? I won’t bother you further after that. I just need a small break from…well, you know.”

Andy returned her desolate look with a smile of his own as he held the door open for her. As he closed the door behind him, she followed him up the hall. “I completely understand,” he said. “I don’t think anyone would have ever thought we’d be in this situation again.”

“Right. It’s like a nightmare that never seems to end. I know there will be an end of course. We’ll try our best to reach it. But, honestly the worst part--for me at least--is having to see the families of our soldiers.”

Andy felt his stomach twist at that. He looked at her closely, noting that among her slender face were pale scars that streaked just below her left eyelid to her cheek and slithered under her collar. They were almost invisible if he didn’t look close enough. He suppressed the images of how she acquired them with a shake of his head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to continue to dampen the mood,” she said. “Perhaps we should start over.” She held out a hand to him. He took it with his free hand as she bowed her head to him. “Prince Anders.”

“Please, call me Andy. It’s a pleasure to re-meet you, Colonel--”

“Hanne. Just Hanne is fine.”

They continued through the hall as such for another moment. They had passed the library where Andy meant to bring his files to, but he purposefully skipped it twice saying that his destination would only be another hall down. Hanne was interested in anything and everything that wasn’t the war. Her talks of what she would be doing right now or where she would go made Andy relax in a way that he hadn’t felt in months. It was after walking past the library a third time, he finally started to feel guilty for keeping her.

“I do hate to cut our conversation short,” he said, “but I feel like I’ve kept you hostage long enough.”

“Really? I thought I was the one holding you hostage.”

“Mutual kidnapping?”Andy shrugged.

Hanne chuckled before gingerly touching the papers he clutched to him. “Are you sure you don’t require any help? I’d be more than happy to lend a hand.”

“No no, it’s fine really. I can--”

He trailed off at the firm grip on his forearm. It was only then Andy noticed how tall Hanne was. She only towered over him by a hair, but it was enough for her eyes to bear into his. He suddenly found himself wanting to wiggle away until she dropped her hand.

“Truth be told,” she said, “I haven’t been a colonel long. Had it not been for my predecessor’s passing I’d probably still be on the home front as a ground soldier. I know how nerve wracking it is to take on new responsibilities at once. If you need help, don’t hesitate to take it.”

His denials caught in his throat with how intense she stared. His body both yearned to sag against the wall and disappear into the library to drown in his papers. Andy thought he had been faring well given the circumstances, but from how this woman kept him pinned to where he stood he felt his resolve chip ever so slightly. This woman who actually bothered to remember his name and look at him with the same intensity as his brother and uncle. He knew he should have felt grateful. Instead, he looked around the hall as if the walls would offer an escape.

He watched a slew of maids and butlers scurrying further down the hall. They were flurries of bundled cloth, trays, and armor. He was about to return his attention to Hanne when his heart skipped a beat. A mess of golden hair bobbed among the stream of servants and Andy suddenly felt an invisible cord yanking at his body.

“I’m so sorry, perhaps we can work together another time,” Andy said. Hanne furrowed her brows at him as he sped down the hall. “I’m sorry!”

He didn’t wait to see or hear her reply. Andy threw himself into the hall and raced through the corridor. He nearly tripped and crashed into other servants passing by as he scurried down a series of stairs to the servants’ entrance and through the lower halls towards the laundry room. When he reached the bottom of the steps to the where the maids gathered, the maids froze and curtsied. Andy ignored them, scanning the women for the familiar bed of golden locks. He cursed under his breath when he saw no such thing.

“Your highness,” a maid said, pausing her folding mid way to look at him. “Can we help you?”

Andy turned to her, nearly toppling her stack of sheets over. He reached out to grab the stack before they fell, further wrinkling his files as he held the stack to him.

“Was there a blonde woman who passed through here? About to my shoulder, brown eyes, tall nose, broad shoulders. Works with reindeer?”

The maid blinked at him quizzically. She tentatively pulled her folded sheets from Andy’s grasp and shook her head.

“I’m sorry, your highness. We haven’t had anyone like that work with us,” she said. “Perhaps she’s one of the extra set of hands hired on.”

“Do you know when they come in?”

The maid wrinkled her nose. “Most of the extra hands are helping with weaponry, food storage, or other necessary supplementary units. They usually work out in the boat yard or in the village.”

Andy’s shoulder dropped and he heaved a sigh. He handed the maid the last sheet he clutched to him, giving her an apologetic nod before slinking back into the hall. He kicked the wall and ran a hand through his hair. Andy knew he would be sucked into a whirlwind of responsibilities when he returned. But the responsibility he neglected to cover burned in his pocket. He reached into it, fiddling with the ring as his heart ached.

She probably hated him. And he couldn’t blame her. He told himself he would bear the savage storm she had for him and apologize for however long it took until she forgave him. Of course, he couldn’t bear any storm unless he could find her. Andy closed his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against the wet stone wall. Hanne’s words ghosted his memory and he grit his teeth.

He could fix this. He brought Eldora to the realm and is setting them all towards a future they can live in as prosperously as a war torn kingdom could. He was helping. He was what the realm, Arendelle, and Elias needed. He _will_ fix this.

Andy opened his eyes and stalked back up the stairs with his jaw set, his mind powering through a new plan for the evening. He didn’t need sleep anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa boy. Talk about burnt out.   
> So sorry it took me so long to update! Life and changes threw me off lol   
> Hope you enjoyed the update and thank you for reading :)   
> See you in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


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